Highlander 1. Chapter 1

**Highlander: Love Hurts**

Disclaimer: No, nothing belongs to me.

Note 1: This story is based upon Southern Chickies great one-shot "The deflowered cub scout" on I highly recommend you all to read it, not only to understand my story better, but also because it's simply awesome!!

Note 2: This story is rated M for a reason folks, there will be sexual content, between two guys on top. If you don't like this, leave right now, but don't flame me afterwards, for you have been warned!

Note 3: English isn't my mother-tongue, so please no flames for grammar and spelling mistakes either, o.k.? And now, enough talk, on with the story!

---------------------------------------- Chapter 1: Aftermath -------------------------------------

To say Richie was confused would have been the understatement of the year.

He felt more like going crazy. Part of his mind was searching for the reason of Methos sudden departure, part was looking in the mirror and wondering that there were no visible traces of what had happened and a very huge part was simply amazed that he just had sex with someone.

There was no way for him to find sleep right now, despite his long day and the previous exhausting activities.

He consulted his watch: 3. 50 a.m. A quick glance outside his window, yes, there was his dutiful watcher, ready to note down every abnormality in his daily routine.

No chance for him to sneak out to the dojo and do some kata´s to get his thoughts away from the old man without being seen. And then Joe would get to know about it, and most likely Mac, too, and what was he supposed to tell them when they asked why he was acting so strange all of a sudden? Those two knew him too well to be deceived and would get the truth out of him in no time.

He sighed; trouble between Mac and Methos was the least he wanted.

So he settled for Tessa's old trick for occupying her thoughts while Mac was out fighting a challenge: cleaning. Richie scrubbed his floors, did his old dishes – breaking two plates in the process because of his lack of concentration – and everything else not to think of a certain old bastard.

By the time of dawn his little two-room apartment was cleaner than it had been ever before and Richie outworn enough to fall asleep while still standing.

One last thing he needed to do before taking a quick shower and finally hitting the sack was to change the sheets, then he could forget about the whole thing and pretend it never happened.

At least, that was his plan, but it failed miserably the very moment he approached the bed. The musky smell of sweat and sex was still present and reminded him relentlessly of what had transpired.

He stripped the bedding as fast as possible in his tired state, threw it in the farthest corner and hurried to get under the shower.

But no amount of water could wash away the new awakened pictures in his mind; Methos smile, the glint in his eyes, his gentle touch…

Before Richie knew it his soap-slippery hands had found their way to his already awakened member and started stroking the swollen flesh.

He leaned backwards onto the water-warmed tiles and allowed himself to remember the hands that had wandered all over his body, the sucking on his glans and that sensational kiss where Methos whole body had been pressed against him. He came in no time, hard, shuddering, and almost collapsing on the shower base.

"So much about forgetting it" he murmured to himself.

'Damn Richie' he cursed himself during towelling down, 'o.k. you just had sex for the first time and yes, it was awesome, but now get a grip! There are plenty of other fish in the sea.'

He suddenly became aware of the shocking truth that he never had a real girlfriend, despite the fact that he was in his late twenties.

'No wonder the watchers get strange ideas about me and Mac!'

So far, he simply had bad luck with the ladies; either they had turned out to be psychopathic, or he was forced to relocate, or simply had died before things could get serious.

Not to mention the little fact that it's a bit complicated to get to know someone and build up a relationship when you have to hide your Immortality. Like, for example, how would one go to club and pass the doorman with a sword hidden in your jacket?

And after his encounter with Kristin all his romantic ambitions had vanished into thin air anyway. Being forced to jump out of the tenth floor on a date to safe your head would do that to anyone. He had silently vowed to himself never ever to meet an Immortal again without having his sword with him, not even when it's a date or on holy ground.

'Mac would call me paranoid' he mused sleepy while he crawled under his covers, 'but Methos would call it wise' was his last thought before drifting into nothingness.

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Around noon Richie was rudely awakened by a shrill ringing. His first sleepy reaction was to fumble around for his alarm clock, but then he realised that it was the telephone which was making that awful noise. With a groan he rose from his bed, waddled over to the damned thing and picked it up, muttering a barely understandable "Richards."

"Richie, is that you?" It was Mac.

"Uh, yeah, hy Mac, what's up? And how is Joe?"

"Oh, we're both fine, but you can see yourself soon because we're going aboard in a minute. That's why I'm calling; I wanted to ask if you can pick us up at the airport this evening."

"Sure thing, just tell me when." Richie noted down time and gate, told Mac goodbye and put down the phone.

Still only half awake he went to the kitchen to make himself a good, strong coffee. Then he busied himself with his homework before his traitorous mind had a chance to replay a certain event once more, like it had done non-stop while he was sleeping.

Yes, his homework. A few months ago Richie had started with night school to finish High School, like Tessa always had secretly wished.

Ever since he was spending three evenings a week at the community building and was surprised that he actually liked learning, now that there weren't abusive foster parents or stupid bullies to put him off.

He only had to lie a bit when his older _looking_ fellow pupils asked why he didn't went to a normal High School with people his age. But he explained to them that he was an Orphan and simply had to work during the day for his living, and eventually they accepted the 'kid' that looked half the age as the rest of them.

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This evening, as Richie was waiting for Joe and Mac at the airport, he tried to understand why he wasn't that happy to see his former teacher.

A few days ago he still had been complaining that life without the two was quite boring, and now he was almost peeved about their return.

No, not about Joe's, just Mac's…Richie froze as realization hit him in form of some words, echoing in the back of his mind '_Maybe next time Mac leaves you unattended for a weekend, I'll be back.'_

With Mac around, there was no way Methos would so much as look at him, let alone accompany him home once more. 'God, am I that keen on to be fucked again by that old, annoying bastard?!' Richie scolded himself, but deep inside he knew the answer.

Any further musings were prevented by Joe's and Mac's arrival, exchanging friendly greetings and latest gossip they made their way to Joe's bar to drink something to mark the occasion.

But in the days to come, Richie often pondered about Methos and their joint night, even after it became apparent that the old man has again vanished into thin air again, however, the question _why_ he had taken Methos with him that night never crossed his mind.

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So, this was the first chapter of my first Highlander-Fic ever…please, tell me what you think and write a review!!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still, nothing belongs to me.

Note 1: This story is based upon SouthernChickies great one-shot "The deflowered cub scout" published on that page where one must be _adult _to read/write _fanfiction _(broadest hint ever) unfortunately I can't post the exact link here, because ffnet blocks this competition…grr! 

Sorry everyone for the late update, but I've been quite busy, my Mom had birthday and we had the whole family there…can you guess who had to clean the whole house? LOL

However, I want to thank everyone for their reviews: SouthernChickie, I'm glad you like it so far! Melodious329, I hope you've found the story at last. Sarah Levin Colter and CrystalC for their nice comments and last but not least my dear friend 66Witch, be sure to get a long mail soon with lots of information about my favourite characters!

So here is the second chapter, I hope you'll all enjoy it!!

------------------------------- Chapter 2: Meeting old friends -------------------------------------

Weeks had turned into months without a single word of Methos, but no one was really worried, they were sure the old man would surface again in time. 

Richie's life was seemingly back in track, after several days his mind had found the way out of the haze. It helped that he still buried himself knee-deep in work. 

He spent the mornings at Joe's, tidying up, accepting deliveries of beer and stuff to take the heat off Joe who was getting a bit long in the tooth and was busy enough anyway with all the paperwork as district supervisor of the watchers. 

In the afternoons he trained the courses for beginners at the dojo; Mac had been more than delighted when Richie had asked for more work, he secretly hoped that his former student was saving the extra cash to go to college after finishing High School.

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Friday noon at Joe's: Richie was sweeping the floor, his work for today almost done, when he heard Joe whooping with joy and rushing to the phone as fast as his prostheses allowed. Curious, Richie stepped nearer, wondering what made the elder man that excited.

"Mac? Joe here; you'll never guess who send me a mail this morning!" Joe grinned like a happy five-year old boy on Christmas Eve. 

"O.K., I give you one clue: the beer consumption in this bar will increase drastically!"

Richie froze, that could mean only one thing: Methos would be back in town. 'I wonder how long he's staying this time…' he turned his attention back to the conversation over the telephone.

"He'll be back this weekend and plans to stay a while longer; apparently he has found a job as a translator for a publishing company here in town, so we're going to see him for sure as soon as we're back from that friend of yours…" 

'Oh shit!! I entirely forgot about - Mac will be on a visit to an old buddy somewhere in L.A this weekend! I'll be alone with Methos!' still, the words kept on echoing in Richie's mind…_next time Mac leaves you unattended_…had he been serious back then, or just…polite?! 

Every question Richie had been suppressing for this past few months came back to him, the whole can of worms. He stood there in a trance-like state, clutching his broom, until an amused Joe asked him if he wanted to put down roots. 

Richie winced "Uhm Joe, I'm done for today, so can I go home, please? I need to do my grocery shopping for the weekend and…" he trailed off; unsure what else he could say to get away that won't sound like a lame excuse.

Joe chuckled. "Whatever, Richie, as long as you are here tomorrow evening; with me in L.A and Rachel down with the flu, Mike and Terry will be in dire need of another pair of hands to handle the bar, you know how jam-packed it gets on a Saturday night." 

"Yeah, sure I'm there. Bye Joe." Richie fetched his jacket and left the bar. 

Absentminded Richie wandered down the streets towards his apartment. He had promised Joe weeks ago to help out on this Saturday, and now with Rachel being ill it was impossible for him to chicken out. 

He sighed, knowing for sure that unless hell freezes over the damn old bastard would spend his Saturday night at the one bar in town where he could mooch endless amounts of his beloved beer. 

There was no way for Richie to avoid a confrontation with Methos, and he felt totally unprepared. 

Meanwhile he had reached the little grocery store just one block away from his flat and, still deep in thoughts, started to pack his usual stuff in his cart, apples, bread, two six-packs of beer, eggs…'I don't even know what I should wish for – Methos avoiding me, pretending that nothing has happened, or him bringing me home again and wanting to fuck me.'

Absently Richie paid at the checkout counter and continued his way home. Once in his kitchenette, unpacking his groceries, he discovered that a part of him apparently had already made his decision. 

It was the epitome of a Freudian slip: instead of two six-packs of his preferred brew he had bought just one – and one of the old mans favourite lager...'seems as if my subconscious tries to give me a_ little_ hint.'

Richie closed his eyes and took a deep breath; it was high time to think this problem through. 

'Question number one: Why am I that fascinated of him?' The answer was quite easy: 

For Methos surely was rude, annoying, and a real pain in the arse, there were days were all he wanted to do was to smash his wise-ass head in, but he was also amusing, charming and the pleasantest fellow to be with, at least sometimes. One way or the other, being with him was never boring.

Richie smiled to himself 'Methos is definitely one of a kind'.

'Question number two: Do I want to sleep with him once more, even if he leaves again afterwards - and most likely takes the rest of my sanity with him?' This one wasn't that easy to response. 

Two hours and three beers later Richie had a splitting headache and his answer: 

Yes - but with reservations. If the opportunity came along, he was going to use it, but he won't beg for it. He won't turn into a male slut for no one, not even Methos.

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Saturday night at Joe's was so busy this time that the waiters hardly had time to catch their breath. The life band Joe had committed for tonight was awesome and everybody was enjoying themselves, even Richie. He had decided on what to do if the old man makes a move and was determined not to mull over more 'what ifs'. 

Richie was just serving one of the booths when he felt the telltale buzz of another immortal, with Mac out of town that left only two possibilities: a stranger passing by or Methos; there were no other of their kind living in Seacouver. 

By the time he was back behind the bar Methos sat at his usual spot at the end of the counter, near the door to the toilettes – and the back exit. 

'Paranoid as always' Richie thought and wordlessly served him a beer. 

Methos took a good swig and asked "Joe isn't around tonight?" 

"Nope" was Richie's answer while he was drawing some beers. Both sounded very casual but were attentively, watching each other out of the corner of their eyes. Richie noticed the intent look he was receiving; it made his skin heat up.

"He's off somewhere in L.A, tailing Mac." he answered the old mans _real_ question.

Green hazel eyes narrowed calculating "Really…" Luckily, Richie was called to one of the tables, before the old mans pondering glance could make him blush like a stupid schoolgirl. 

For the rest of the night the younger Immortal was too occupied with his duties as a waiter to talk to Methos, and he was somewhat grateful about this, Smalltalk was the least he had in mind tonight.

However, at closing time the old man was still around. After the last guests had paid and the other waiters headed homewards, Richie started putting up the chairs, looking everywhere but at his last customer, when Methos started talking. 

"It's pretty late." 

"Yeah." Richie's heart was pounding like mad. 

"I bet there are no more busses driving at that time…" 

'Say it! For god's sake, say it!' Prayed the redhead, hoping the old bastard couldn't sense his inner turmoil.

"You want a ride home, kid?" 

Richie took a deep breath. "Sure."

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Both were silent during the short drive. Though when Methos parked his Jeep Richie didn't exit immediately but kept on sitting in the car. 

"Do you want to come up for one last beer in return for the ride?" The Younger was kind of proud that his voice didn't quiver at the crucial question.

Methos just smiled a little and answered nonchalantly "Why not." 

Once inside his flat Richie instantly grabbed two bottles of beer from his fridge, he too settled for a lager instead of a can of his favourite because he didn't want Methos to notice that he had bought the lager only for him. 

They drank in silence, standing in the kitchenette, leaning against the countertop. Richie wondered how the hell he should go on from here, he had only thought about how to get the old man into his apartment, but not any further. 'I can't keep on standing here like a statue, but I can't just jump him either.' 

He was so distracted that he almost got a mouthful of beer down the wrong pipe. Richie hastily set down the bottle, coughing a little, some froth still lingering on his lips and drops of brew slowly running down his chin. He wanted to whip it away with the back of his hand but suddenly his wrist was captured in a firm grip. Looking up he found Methos staring at him, his breath hitched in his throat at the heated glance.

As in slow motion, the old man bent down and started licking the beer off his skin, from his chin up to his mouth, taking in every droplet.

By the time he reached his lips Richie was nearly shaking in anticipation, finally he couldn't stand it anymore and used his free hand to pull Methos even nearer and kissed him fervently. He was more than happy when Methos reacted with equal passion, and soon they were frenching and groping. 

When they eventually needed to break their kiss for air, Methos grinned and his eyes were sparkling amused.

"I take it that you're in for another 'ride', kid?" 

Richie returned the grin. "Damn sure I am." He started dragging Methos to his bedroom, all previous hesitation and shyness gone; he wanted this man, now! 

Both undressed in no time, each clearly enjoying the sight of the other. 

Richie knew that this could very possibly be his last encounter with the old man, who knew if he ever got this chance again, and he planned on using it for all it was worth. His hands roamed all over the lithe body lying on his bed, almost reverently, memorizing each detail. 

Methos was astonishingly compliant, he let the Younger do as he liked, curious about what he would do next. And he wasn't disappointed; a hot mouth joined the eager hands and slowly but steadily kept on travelling southwards.

However, just as he was about to reach the throbbing goal, Richie stopped; he leaned up and gave Methos a short but tender kiss to effectively silence his complaints in advance, whispered "This time, give me a little hint before you…o.k?" into the ancients ear and was down again in an instant.

Even though he was still inexperienced, the redhead didn't falter but started to kiss and lick his way over the swollen flesh, from the base to the uncut tip and back. Richie went solely by instinct, adding a little nip from time to time, or sucking at the patch of skin between shaft and balls, and according to Methos reactions he was doing right. 

He was kinda proud to hear the old man pant because of the things he was doing, the sound took away the strangeness of the act and encouraged him to go further. Richie took one last deep breath and swallowed as much of the cock in front of his nose as he could manage without choking and was rewarded with a little moan from above.

Grinning he started to bob his head, simultaneously massaging the shaft with his tongue and increasing the suction when there was only the tip remaining in his mouth.

Soon enough he had to use both hands to keep his lover from thrusting his hips upwards, and when he felt slender hands tug at his hair, he knew the old man was about to let go. 

But instead of spitting out the cock before it would spurt he took it in even a bit deeper, so hopefully fewer gunk would touch his tongue. Richie's plan was simple: swallow the nasty stuff quickly without tasting too much – and it worked. Even so, he couldn't help to make a face at the flavour, but it was bearable and a little price to pay for the pleasure to come.

Richie stretched out beside his lover, a little grin on his face. "Well..?" 

Methos returned the grin. "Credit where credit is due, I must admit you're a fast learner." 

The redhead smiled with clearly affected modesty "I had one hell of an example to follow." 

"So, you want me to return the favour?" 

Much to the old mans surprise, Richie shook his head. "I want _you_." 

Green hazel eyes flashed at the unconcealed passion of this statement. "Very well, kid, but let me take the edge off first, so you'll last longer when it gets to the real deal." With that spoken, he began to stroke his young lovers' needy erection. Richie moaned as expert hands fondled his neglected cock and pulled Methos face up to kiss him once again. 

He had his eyes closed in pure bliss and it didn't bother him in the least when a single finger started to prod at his entrance, as long as the rest kept on stimulating his shaft he was in heaven. Though somewhere in his lust fogged mind it dawned to him that before long they would need lube again, so he fumbled blindly in his nightstand for the little jar of Vaseline he had placed there just in case. 

However, producing the lube right from his nightstand earned him a slightly amused raised eyebrow from Methos, and Richie mentally slapped himself. 'God, I could have just as well screamed: Yes, I desperately wanted you to fuck me again!' 

But as he saw his lover's clear discomfort, the old man proved for once to be understanding. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Richie, if anything it's good to be prepared for everything." 

The words sounded truly sincere and were accompanied by a tender kiss on the cheek, therefore Richie relaxed again. 

In the meantime Methos had slicked his fingers, so the intrusion at his backside was easier and actually started to feel quite good. 

Soon, the redhead didn't know whether to thrust his hips up into the hand on his member or down onto the fingers inside of him. He writhed in ecstasy, on the verge of release, as all of a sudden, both hands were gone. 

Richie whined in protest, but before he could voice his complaint something far larger than a finger started entering him. This totally unexpected sensation did it, he came, shuddering, trashing around, with each jerk impaling himself further. 

By the time his orgasm ceased Methos length was fully buried inside of him, an incredible zest to his still tingling nerve endings. Richie's breathing slowly returned to normal, he smiled up at the man lying on top of him and resumed kissing him. 

However, the kiss was broken when the old man began to move, minute rocking motions of his hips that made the Younger gasp. 

Every tiny motion burned along his already oversensitive nerves, and in next to no time Richie was getting hard again. This time, his excitement was rising more slowly, but with to him prior unknown vehemence. 

Methos quickened his pace; proceeding to make long, hard thrusts that threw Richie into frenzy. He clutched onto Methos for dear life and wasn't aware of anything, except those unfathomable eyes whose gaze seemed to burn into his very soul.

The final climax was so intense it took his breath away, and he could have sworn his heartbeat stopped for a second, too. When he came back to his senses he was still holding onto the heavy panting man lying on top of him, drawing strange comfort from his weight. 

Richie felt like he could lie like this forever, and it frightened him, because he knew very well that Methos would get up and leave within the next minutes; and maybe for good this time. 

Just as predicted, the old man soon started to move, obviously wanting to stand up. It took the redhead a huge amount of willpower to release him.

Neither of the two spoke a word; Methos was too busy putting on his clothes in record time and Richie, he wouldn't have known what to say if his life depended on it. I mean, what does one say in a situation like that, 'Thanks for screwing me, you're welcome any time!'?! 

Yet he didn't want to appear sulky, so he pretended to be very sleepy. His runaway lover seemed to buy the act, he actually drew the blanket over him, and already leaving, he whispered: "Until next time, kid."

These few words made Richie feel warm all over, his whole being concentrated on the promise within the phrase, _next time_. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

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Down on the street Methos frowned over himself, why had he said those last words? This vague promise was little short of more commitment than he was comfortable with.

He sighed; the kid had just caught him of guard tonight. 

Where had the clumsy virgin gone? Richie had turned out to be a still inexperienced, but all the more eager and passionate lover. 

Methos had halfway expected the redhead to avoid him and act awkward, pretending nothing had ever happened, instead he was invited a second time. 

This time, there had been no embarrassing tries to cuddle or to make him stay longer. Richie apparently had understood the unspoken rules of their get-together: having fun, but no relationship or whatsoever.

The frown turned into a little smile, he was actually looking forward to their next time, and doing it all behind the Scottish moralizers back made it so much the more amusing.

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So, how do you like it? Hot? Crap? I appreciate each comment!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: No, not mine. Pity!!

Again, thanks to everyone who left a review, it means so much to me: 66Witch, feel free to ask me everything you want to know about the characters! Rivana, yes, I could see it too, that's why it took me so long to write this scene – I got distracted by the mental pictures LOL. And Melodious329, unfortunately I can't answer your questions about Methos inner life or I would spoil the next chapters, but I can tell you that you're heading the right way. wink

Note: Since it's important for the understanding of this chapter: My story chronological takes place after Macs dark quickening. The whole Ahriman-crap never happened. Also, Charlie DeSalvo (the former owner of the dojo) never got killed, and he still knows nothing about immortals. And now, read and enjoy!!

-- Chapter 3: One man's meat is another man's poison --

The reunion of Mac, Joe and Methos on this Monday morning at the bar was a more than happy one. Mac gave the old man a bear hug - much to his embarrassment - and Joe couldn't stop grinning. Richie had a great time watching Joe as he tried to worm his whereabouts of the last months out of the old man, as usual, without success.

At least he told the slightly frustrated watcher something about his new job, enough to let on that he planned to stay for longer this time, a fact that secretly excited Richie.

With Macs truckload of old friends and foes that he needed to look after it was just a question of time when the man would be out of town for a few days again, and then…'I'll be _left unattended_' the redhead grinned, almost as broad as Joe.

He would just have to wait, but that shouldn't be a problem, after all, if there was one thing immortals have more than enough it was time.

However, if there was one thing that this special young immortal was totally lacking it was patience, maybe that's why Macs fatherly attempts to guard him were getting to him more than ever.

Richie was slowly but surely getting frustrated, o.k, so maybe he was _looking_ like a barely grown-up teenager, and yes, compared to other immortals he was still young, but he wasn't a babe in the woods. He definitely didn't need a 400-year old Scot living out his helper syndrome by mothering him.

Richie tried to give the man a hint, but Mac kept on sticking to him like glue, for god knows what reasons, he couldn't even have a friendly word with Methos unobserved.

Just as he was about to loose it, fate showed mercy to Richie, although not to Macleod, by sending a tax inspector to the dojo.

The redhead could have kissed that pen-pusher in his grey suit for mercilessly preoccupying the highlander. Richie enjoyed the few days breathing-space to the fullest, and as he had hoped for, Methos took advantage of the situation, too.

Despite his usually calm and almost indifferent behaviour at Joe's bar, as soon as they arrived at his flat it became obvious that the old man had awaited this opportunity as eagerly as Richie himself. They all but pounced on each other, not caring the least about minor bruises or hickeys; those would be gone in the morning anyway.

Regardless of their shared passion Methos left once again the instant it was over, leaving Richie feeling sated, but somewhat empty.

--

The morning Mac surfaced again, he looked as if something big had swallowed him, chewed thoroughly only to spat him out disgusted afterwards.

Joe took one look at his friend and wordlessly poured him a double of his favourite whisky.

After the highlander had downed the liquor in one swig, he dared to ask "That bad?"

Mac shook his head. "Worse. The dojo went too well over the last months; I had hardly time to file my quittances, let alone to keep the books. It was all one big mess." He sighed. "Guess it's high time to hire a bookkeeper, I don't want to risk unwanted attention."

Joe knew what he meant, a too close examination of the dojo´s books could lead to some awkward questions about its owner, it was better to let the sleeping dogs lie.

Methos snorted amused. "I bet you're the only businessman on the whole wide world who complains that his business is going too well. Besides, you should have seen this 'problem' coming."

MacLeod was irritated. "What do you mean, Methos?"

The old man rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Mac! Even without taking one look at the list of attendees I'm willing to bet my weekly ration of beer that the percentage of female beginners increased drastically during the last months."

The highlander blinked slightly dumbfounded, for the damn old bastard was absolutely right; they actually had to split the beginners' course in two because of the strong request.

"So, what are you driving at, what's the big secret of my success, the one so secret even I don't know about?"

"Yeah, care to enlighten us; maybe I can use it for my bar, too" Joe chuckled.

Methos only raised his eyebrows and took one long, pointed look at the third Immortal inside the bar, Macs and Joes glances soon following his own.

Richie, who was currently storing away the latest delivery of liquors, had been secretly listening to each spoken word and was wondering what Methos meant, too, when he felt all three of his friends stare at him.

The old man smiled. "Let's just say your dojo has a very attractive, eye-catching advantage, especially for women."

The young redhead had to excuse himself to the bathroom, his heart was pounding like mad and his cheeks were on fire. 'Did he really just make me a compliment, right in front of Mac and Joe?' He smiled, 'maybe he does like me a bit after all.'

Although a huge part of his mind tried to tell him that he was only clutching at every straw to convince himself that he was more than a convenient fuck to Methos, he couldn't help the butterflies he had in his stomach.

--

A few days later Mac hired a grey-faced nitpicker named Mr. Smith, who looked like the embodiment of a bookkeeper, including thick-lensed glasses and a bald spot, though the man was only in his early thirties.

Regardless of having no clue at all about martial arts or sports in general he worked a miracle at Macs chaotic accountancy, so the Scot could concentrate on giving courses together with Richie and Charlie DeSalvo. Life grew quiet and regular.

During that time, Methos began to develop the habit of coming around at the bar in the mornings, for a so-called 'breakfast beer'.

When it had happened the first time, a very surprised Richie without thinking had complained about Methos not bringing a bite for him, too. Much to his amazement, when Methos came again the next morning, he had a snack for Richie as well.

The redhead quickly grew accustomed to the old mans visits before opening time, as a freelance translator Methos had all the time in the world to spend his mornings at the place he apparently considered his parlour.

They talked about this and that while Richie swept the floors or waited for a new delivery; sometimes the old man would tell one of his fascinating if not necessarily truthful stories, sometimes Richie would ask for his help with a difficult homework, anyway, time flew when they were together.

The younger enjoyed these unhurried mornings alone with Methos to the fullest, but did his best to dissemble his feelings. Richie knew fully well that he wasn't allowed to cling to him, that if the old man ever got the feeling he expected more of him, he would vanish for good.

Though, the reactions to Methos being around Richie more often were widely differing.

Joe took notice of this new arrangement when he found them playing a game of pool like old friends one morning. He had been astounded, but although he pretended to be a bit miffed about Methos spending yet more time at his bar to mooch even more beer, he was secretly delighted for them both.

In his opinion they could only benefit from each other, Methos could really use one more friend he could trust and the kid could learn a trick or two from the sly fox.

Macleod however was far from pleased about the budding friendship between Methos and his former student.

He feared that the old mans cynicism and sarcasm would have a bad influence on the younger immortal, that his whole non-caring attitude would corrupt the redhead.

After giving more or less subtle hints - which Richie chose to ignore completely - he decided it was high time to have a straight talk with him.

When Mac asked him to stay after he was done with his last course, Richie didn't think anything of it; he thought that maybe Mac wanted to talk about work or just have a beer and a chat with him.

What he hadn't expected was Mac trying in all seriousness to reprimand him for becoming friends with Methos.

Needless to say that Richie wasn't amused that the Scot meant he could tell him what to do.

Seeing that he was getting nowhere, Macleod attempted to justify his opinion by telling the redhead about Methos past, namely about the horsemen.

He started with Cassandra's story about her time at their camp and gave a detailed report about the events in Bordeaux, too.

Richie listened quietly, not once interrupting with a question. Mac took his abnormal silence as a sign that the young immortal was in a state of shock and tried to console him.

"Don't blame yourself, Richie, you couldn't see through him, no one can, he's just too old and damned smart. You never know with him, one moment he's the peaceful grad student, and the next…his character has an indefinite amount of facets, which makes him that dangerous. Although I call him my friend, I don't dare to trust him completely."

The highlander sighed, looking at Richie's unmoving figure.

"You however are definitely no match for him. I hope you can understand now why I don't want you to come too close to him."

The redhead nodded slowly, obviously deep in thoughts. His silentness and complete calm began to frighten the older man.

"Richie? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine Mac…Just let me get this straight," Richie said carefully, "he offered you his head, took a challenge for you, left his dying wife to help you during the dark quickening when even _I_ didn't want to get near you, but you don't deem him worthy of your trust or my friendship because of the things he did back in bronze age."

Blue eyes meet brown ones in a steady gaze. "Funny. I never took you for a Hypocrite, Mac."

This statement left the highlander speechless.

Richie continued "We all have skeletons in the closet; it figures that he's got more to hide than anyone, he's the oldest one after all and lived in times even before eye for an eye was invented and considered a modern and liberal law. Of course that's no excuse for what he did, but I think he has proven that he has changed, not only with Bordeaux but also simply by how bloodless he lived in the past centuries."

At this point Macleod tried to interrupt him, obviously utterly disagreeing, which only enraged the redhead further.

"For God's sake Mac, you probably took more heads in the past decade than Methos in the past millennium - almost including my own, may I add - and now you of all people have the nerve to tell me that _he's_ dangerous? And to speak of trust; by telling me all this_ you_ gave away what's most likely his biggest secret."

He took a deep breath to calm down and regain his composure. "I think further discussions are witless and would only end in nothing; we won't reach a common accord on this point. I let myself out."

As Richie walked out of the loft he left behind a stunned highlander who wanted nothing more than to wake up from what could have only been a weird nightmare.

--

The atmosphere between Mac and Richie remained tense after this special late night talk.

Of course Joe was worried and wanted to know what has happened between them, even Methos showed a slight interest in what had caused the rip in their friendship, but both stayed tight-lipped about it.

Richie only told Joe that they had a strong dissent in one point and that Mac apparently had a problem with him conceiving and defending his own opinion for a change.

His comment towards Methos when he handed him his Morning pint was even more cryptic; remembering the old mans own metaphor he stated:

"Let's just say this Cub Scout is growing up and my den leader has a bit of a problem coping with it."

The hair-trigger situation however was forgotten the moment Amanda made an out of the blue call from Paris, more a desperate plea for help than everything else.

Apparently a head-hunter was after her who wasn't content with just challenging her, no; he wanted to make her life a living hell first.

He had already killed two of her close mortal friends but in a way that Amanda was accused of the murders. Right now she was in imprisonment on remand - and a nervous wreck.

Shaken with the news about her common friend's situation the Scot and Richie put all current personal differences aside to find a way to help her. They agreed on that it would be the best if Mac flew to Paris as soon as possible to assist Amanda in her distress.

For the time being, the new bookkeeper would be in charge of the dojo, with Richie and Charlie taking over Macs courses; Mike would run the bar in Joe's absence, him and Richie taking over Joes shifts behind the counter.

Although worried about Amanda, the redhead was kinda glad for the physical separation between him and Mac. He hoped that the distance would clear the highlanders head and help him to come to terms with his former student's growing self-reliance.

Furthermore deep inside a selfish part of Richie was just delighted at the chance for being alone with Methos more often to deepen their…whatever it was that they had.

With Joe and Mac out of town he was hoping for some passionate nights.

--

Review, please! It only takes a few seconds and isn't fattening!!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own them…but I always keep a beer in reserve for Methos!

Again, thanks to my (sole) loyal reviewers: Melodious329 and 66Witch. This one's for you!!

-- Chapter 4: Changes and Realizations --

After Macs and Joe's hasty departure, Richie's life became even busier, commuting between Joe's bar and the dojo he hardly found the time to do his homework for school, but he loved it anyway.

He was now a staffer on Saturday nights, and as regular as clockwork Methos brought him home after closing time.

It became their own little ritual; Methos would offer Richie a ride home and the redhead would offer one last beer in return, they would drink their beer, casually chatting, and end in bed afterwards.

Every encounter with the old man was like a sensual revelation for the younger; Richie being only recently deflowered was in sharp contrast to Methos, who was by far the most experienced one of all due to sheer age. He knew all the tricks and the redhead was his most eager student, he recalled their nights over and over to learn, to use the gained knowledge in return the next time.

Richie loved when he could make the always so self-controlled man pant and moan.

Though one difficulty remained for Richie, how to smuggle Methos in his apartment without his watcher noticing.

Mike was very devoted when it came to his watcher-duties; despite the stress that caused Joe's absence at the bar he followed the redhead wherever he went.

It was a lucky coincidence that gave Riche the idea how to solve this problem, for when he left the community building after evening school one night he saw Mike and his wife were leaving, too. The woman was obviously pregnant; about six months was his guess, the soon-to-be parents were apparently attending the prenatal classes.

The young immortal smiled to himself and began to hatch a plot.

--

Two days later, he and Mike were just finished talking about the arrangement of the shifts for next week, when Richie asked him to stay a bit longer, because there was one more thing on his mind he wanted to talk about. His fellow waiter was a bit surprised, but sat down again at the booth near the end of the bar.

As he was about to start speaking, Richie felt the telltale buzz of another immortal, Methos was coming for his morning pint. 'Perfect timing, old man' he grinned to himself, and said, a slight bit louder than necessary "I wanted to talk to you about this as long as we're still alone, Mike."

Methos, who was just about to enter through the back door, heard this and frowned, without doubt Richie had felt him, too, so what was the kid up to? Curious, he stayed were he was to listen further.

"I've seen you and Myra the other day, she's pregnant, right? So I've thought that she needs you now more than ever and that maybe I could…disburden you at your other job."

Mike blinked, and feigned incomprehension, but before he could stammer a lame denial Richie interrupted him.

"Look, I've known for months that you're my watcher, why else would I let my schedule lie around for you to look into it? I have no problem with you as my constant shadow and would have never brought this up if not for Myra's current condition."

At this point he stopped for a moment, not only to give a pale looking Mike time to assimilate this information but also to collect his thoughts before he would come to the crunch point. Richie prayed that the watcher would buy his arguments and didn't smell a rat.

"As you know, I'm living very quiet at the moment; had no challenge for months and I don't plan to change this, except a rabid head-hunter comes to town, but that's not very likely. There are no other immortals living in or near Seacouver, plus without Mac being here this little town isn't exactly the centre of the game, more the opposite.

And without challenges there's no need for you to follow me around right now, I mean, the watchers headquarter surely isn't interested in my school marks or what I buy at the groceries, right?

So this is my offer, you can stop watching me for now to take care of your pregnant wife, and if I should really stumble over a head-hunter, I'll give you a call on your cell."

Mike swallowed hard, normally becoming exposed meant to loose his assignment; he had been so glad that with Richie Ryan he had gotten one of the 'good guys', and even got to know him personally here at Joe's bar, which was a dream come true for every watcher.

And if his immortal was that cool with knowing who his watcher was, maybe he wouldn't have to inform the watchers headquarter about being unmasked, after all, who would betray him, Joe? The man was not only a close friend but also living in the proverbial glasshouse himself for years when it came down to having relations with ones assignment.

Nevertheless, this incredible offer bordered on breaking his oat. "I really don't know what to say…"

"Hey, relax, no need to jump the gun on this, take your time, think about it; only if you accept, remember to give me your cell phone number so I can give you a call if something is going to happen that's worth watching, o.k?"

The shocked watcher nodded numbly and walked back into Joe's office to take care of the beer and liquor orders for next month.

As soon as Mike was gone, Methos entered and sat down at the bar, where Richie had already placed a bottle of his favourite beer. He took one good swig before he stated:"That wasn't half bad, kid. Actually, I don't think I could have made it better."

The redhead beamed at this great compliment, he had silently hoped that Methos would be ear witness of his first real attempt to manipulate someone, for the old man had virtually invented this sport and he had hoped that maybe he could impress him a little.

"You think he'll buy it and stop watching me?"

"He'll probably need a few days to think it through, but in the end, yes. After all, you have been recently maintaining a profile that is _that _low that watching you must be boring as shit."

Richie snickered "How true. The watchers got to be thinking Mike is sending them the same report over and over again."

The very next day Mike already approached Richie to give him his cell number. He had dark rings under his eyes and looked alarming.

As he saw the redhead's genuine worry, he explained to him that his wife had gone into premature labour last night and, although in solid condition again, still needed to rest in hospital.

Under these newly-developed circumstances, the watcher was more than happy to take his immortal up on his offer.

Richie was glad he really helped Mike with their arrangement, it made him feel less like he was taking advantage of Myra's condition for egoistic interests.

--

Saturday night came, and Riche could hardly wait until his shift was over.

He had changed his bed; a six-pack of lager was cooling in his fridge, waiting to be drunk, and on his nightstand was a brand-new bottle of lube - even though Vaseline has proved to work well, it left tough stains in his sheets, so he had mustered up all his courage and went into a sexshop to by real lube, with ears as red as a tomato.

Right now, Richie was in high spirits, joking with Rachel and the guests, his smile seemed to lighten up the whole place; it was obvious to everybody that he was having a great time.

However no one noticed the veiled, soft glances he threw at a certain regular who sat on his usual spot in front of his umpty beer.

"Hey Richie, looks like you're really enjoying yourself tonight, while I've got the feeling that my feet are going to kill me any minute. What's your secret?"

Richie grinned "Don't know Rachel, maybe it's because I don't wear high heels?!"

At this comment, his fellow waitress rolled her eyes, for she was a fanatic fan of these shoes and never wore heels with less than three inches.

"Or maybe it's because my night won't end here…" The redhead wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Rachel laughed "Well, that explains a lot! Have fun!"

Richie smiled and cast another secret glance towards Methos, only to find his beer bottle and bar stool empty. 'Got to be in the toilet' he thought, shrugged and proceeded to put down a new beer for him.

That was when he noticed that Methos´ coat was missing, too. Richie's heart started pounding. 'Not even Methos is that paranoid to take his sword with him to a public restroom.'

There was only one conclusion: Methos was gone.

How he managed to come through the last half an hour of his shift was beyond Richie, but somehow he made it. After the last guests had walked away, Rachel waved her goodbye and limped outside, too.

As in trance the redhead started putting up the chairs as usual, but when it came to turning down the lights, he halted.

He just couldn't go home, alone, to his perfectly clean sheets and beer that would be left un-drunk. Anything but that!

Richie's wandering glance fell onto the liquor bottles behind the bar, and suddenly he knew what he would do. He grabbed at random a bottle of booze and a tumbler, sat down in one of the booths and commenced to get him royally drunk as soon as possible.

--

It was already in the wee hours of Sunday when a cab pulled up at the bar and released a yawning Joe Dawson.

He had found a last-minute substitute to take over his watcher duties in Paris for a few days and had come to surprise Amy on her birthday tomorrow.

The elder man was dog tired and his prostheses bothered him more than usual after the long flight, but to him it was more than worth it, after all, his daughter would become thirty only once and he was overjoyed that they got along so well presently after their former misunderstandings.

Right now though all he wanted was to collapse into his bed.

However the moment Joe entered his bar all thoughts of sleep left him instantly at the sight of Richie.

The kid sat slumped over in one of the booths, in front of him a few empty bottles of hard liquor, and his eyes were red-rimmed as if he had cried. What in the seven hells had caused the usually cheerful young man to fall into despair?

"Richie?" The soft call of his name made him flinch; it took his clouded brain some time to form an answer that makes sense.

"Joe? Why are you here?"

"Amy's birthday is tomorrow and I found a stand-in for a few days, so…"he trailed of and cast the redhead a worried glance. "Richie, what has happened?"

The younger tried to play down the issue, but couldn't fool his friend for one second. "Don't say 'nothing', kid. One does not try to drink oneself into coma because of 'nothing'!"

He sighed "Please, tell me what's wrong with you!"

Richie looked him straight in the eye "Do you ask as my friend or as my watcher?"

Joe blinked, completely taken aback. That was a remark he would have expected to come from Methos, but not from Richie. He took a deep breath.

"I'm not your watcher but Mac's, and what is more, this doesn't look like it's an immortal issue. So yes, I'm asking as your friend."

"Promise not to tell anybody, especially not Mac?"

"If that's what you want, sure. You know that you can trust me." He tried to smile reassuringly, but deep inside he was getting really anxious, for this seemed to be serious.

Richie slumped down visibly; his prior audacity vanished into nothingness. Truth to be told, he longed to talk to someone, to get this whole mess off his chest.

He swallowed hard. "O.K, but you better grab yourself a drink first, too, cause you're in for a hell of a surprise."

And so was it, as soon as Richie started talking, Joe couldn't pick his jaw of the floor. Him and Methos…this was honest to god the last thing he had expected.

Soon enough though, his surprise made room for anger, if he hadn't given Richie his word he would have stormed over to that old bastard to give him a piece of his mind!

The more he listened, the more Joe realized how deep Richie was hurt by Methos behaviour, and wished he could somehow make him feel better, but knew he couldn't do a thing.

The elder man had never before felt so helpless.

Yes, Joe knew he was more than a bit emotional when it came to the redhead, heck; he had acknowledged to himself long ago that Richie was like a son for him.

Joe had known Richie already way back when he was still a scrawny and gangly punk that had appeared out of nowhere in the highlanders life, and quickly became to like the kid.

He had watched from the shadows when he and Tessa were shot down, and witnessed with mixed feelings how he had risen for the first time, now as an immortal.

And how proud he had been the day of Richie's first quickening! His astounding victory over Mako silenced all those among the watchers who thought a formerly petty criminal could never become a part of the great line of swordsmen the highlander belonged to.

In the end, Joe held the crying young man, consoling him the best he could, yet deep inside, he was seething with rage, cursing Methos extensive for being the heartless bastard that he apparently was.

--

On the other side of the town, a silent figure sat on a couch in a dark, unlit room, holding an almost empty bottle of beer.

Tonight, as he had watched Ritchie chat with one of the waitresses, he had actually felt a twinge of jealousy.

He tried to figure out how it had come so far; when had he grown that fond of the kid?

It was supposed to be a sheer physical agreement between them, no commitment and most of all no emotional involvement.

Eternal affection was just a naïve dream; anything above a loose friendship among their kind could only end disastrous.

Methos had broken this cardinal rule only once in his life, when he had been still young, and had paid dearly. And not only him alone…

He closed his eyes; in his mind he could still hear her, screaming on the verge of pure agony; words, in a long forgotten language, that haunted his dreams for centuries.

_I don't care! I love him! _

Methos didn't know how long he sat like this, beset with the imaginary stench of charring human flesh, silent tears streaming down his face, until he came back to his mind.

He looked down; blue sparks were flickering all over his hand and the shattered remnants of the bottle. Absentminded he pulled out the shards; he hadn't even felt the pain when they tore into his flesh.

'What now?' he asked himself.

His strong instinct of self-preservation screamed at him to get away from the redhead as fast as possible, and not to come near him again for at least a couple of centuries.

But there was also another voice, small but persistent, that reminded him of Richie's gentle smile, the amusement sparkling in his eyes when he listened to one of his stories, his vivid passion, the way he gave Methos everything without demanding anything back.

"What now?" he murmured, but for the first time in long while the perhaps wisest man on earth knew no answer.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Me not own anything…big surprise here…

A big 'Thanks!' to my dearest loyal reviewers: Melodious329 and 66Witch, and a welcoming 'Bonjour!' to Litany Riddle. Your comments mean the world to me!!

Note: Actually, I had this chapter done two weeks ago, but couldn't post it because my modem broke down and those snails from my provider needed _that_ long to send me a new one – honestly, if they would work any slower, one would need to dust them off! Grr! And since I'm working with an online dictionary I couldn't even start writing the new chapter until now sniff but I promise to hurry up the best I can.

-- Chapter 5: Addictions --

It was already dawning when Joe, after providing him with a _really_ strong coffee, brought Richie home.

Both were drained, emotional as well as physical, and needed a profound sleep, though Joe would only get a short nap due to Amy's birthday party. They had arranged to meet each other Monday morning at the bar when Richie would have a clear brain again.

This weekend was pure hell for the young immortal; he couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, was fuzzy-headed; the only thing on his mind was Methos.

Richie felt like going cold turkey, and in a way this was true, the old man had become his drug, the one thing his whole world revolved around.

'I can't complain though, I knew he would cost me my sanity in the end´ he mused 'but even if I could, I wouldn't change a thing.'

He had enjoyed every single moment, not just the sex, but also their morning chats, every second he had spent with Methos he had felt so…alive. It was as if the sun shone brighter and the grass was greener when the old man was around.

He remembered what Tessa had once said when he had asked her if staying with Mac really was worth all the troubled, sleepless nights, knowing fully well that every day together could be their last. '_To loose paradise is hard, but never get to know it is even harder. _'

With these words in mind, he tried to somehow recover his peace of mind.

--

Nevertheless he looked like shit when he met with Joe at the bar on Monday.

The watcher had already found out that 'Adam Pierson' had called in sick at work for the rest of the week , a definite sign that he hadn't disappeared like they had assumed but was still around and didn't plan to leave at all.

For Richie, this was a shock; he could barely cope with the thought of Methos being gone, but to imagine seeing him again in a few days as if nothing had happened was unthinkable.

To be absolutely sure that Methos hadn't left he went to the old man's flat and, after not feeling the buzz, used his old skills as a burglar to enter, while a nervous Joe kept a lookout.

Inside the apartment it became clear that Methos was really going to stay, all his clothes and even his latest journal were still there, not to mention an astounding beer reserve in the fridge. But where on earth was he, and why was he currently in hiding?

--

What Richie couldn't know was that Methos was much nearer than he would have ever guessed, namely on Mac's sacred island. He was there to think, calm down and most of all, to try to clear his head of a certain redhead.

--

The days went by at a snails pace, and no life sign of Methos. Again, it helped Richie a lot to burry himself in work to take his mind of his problem, yet he had a sense of unreality throughout the day, as if he was dreaming.

Joe was still very anxious, he feared for Richie's life if he had to face a head hunter in this depressed state and secretly wished he could clobber Methos one with his cane for mistreating the kid in such a manner. Alas, he had to fly back to Mac and Amanda, but he made Riche promise to call him as soon as the old bastard would show his big nose again, or whenever he needed someone to talk, 24/7.

After he brought Joe to the airport and bid him his goodbye, the young immortal went straight to the community centre for his classes. The finals were only a few weeks ahead, so he was really glad he managed to focus on the stuff, because he wanted to graduate with good marks.

However, the moment Richie left the building, all thoughts of marks and education abandoned him as he felt the buzz of another immortal. Cursing under his breath he searched for the other, already dialling Mikes number, when he saw a rather familiar Jeep parking on the other side of the street.

Methos.

His brain froze instantly and his mouth went dry, there was a whirring in his ears and his heart beat so fast as if he had just run a marathon.

The redhead was so shocked he didn't even notice that his feet started walking on their own accord until he was standing right beside the car.

Blue eyes locked with green hazel ones, and Methos opened the passenger door for him.

Richie climbed in, too confused to see that the old man himself was looking quite shaken. They drove towards the younger immortals flat in complete silence, once there Methos wordlessly followed him upstairs.

Inside his apartment Richie automatically went to his fridge to get two beers, but found himself grabbed, turned around and pressed with his back against the surface of the cooling device.

A hot mouth met his in a fiery kiss, tongues and limbs entwined in a frantic embrace; the world around them forgotten.

The redhead was dimly aware of being moved and lifted to sit on the countertop but couldn't care less, his whole attention solicited by the man standing between his spread legs, grinding their hips together.

He somehow managed to rid Methos of his trademark sweater and eagerly groped his lithe body through the remaining thin T-shirt, relishing the movement of the strong back and shoulder muscles under his hands. Richie wrapped his legs around the old mans waist, striving to increase the friction between their groins.

All his senses were focused on the man in front of him, his smell, the taste of his mouth and skin, the sound of his panting breath. The young man felt like drowning in this sensory overload, and he loved every second of it.

When a soft pair of lips gently nipped a trail from his earlobe over his neck down to his collarbone, carefully adding some teeth every so often, he finally lost it.

Richie came, shuddering, gasping, and clutching onto Methos for dear life, subconsciously afraid that he would already leave him again.

When he regained his senses, the first thing the redhead noticed was the stickiness inside his jeans, causing him to exclaim "Geez, now I need a shower!"

The moment the words left his lips, Richie already regretted them, what if Methos thought he intended to kick him out?

Luckily, the old man only grinned amused and asked playfully "Mind if I join you?"

The younger secretly exhaled relieved and replied, also grinning "Not at all."

He hopped of the countertop and walked ahead, entering his bedroom he said "We better undress here, because...well…my bathroom is a bit…small."

_That_ was a polite understatement, Amanda had put it more drastically, at her view of Richie's flat shortly after he had moved in she had stated, rather shocked "This isn't a bathroom but a closet with constant warm water!"

His shower however, was almost three feet in the square, enough space for him and the lithe form of Methos, and he himself had installed an extra large shower head on which he was quite proud of.

Richie stepped into the cubicle and turned on the water, fully aware of the man entering right after him, who was now standing so close behind him that he could feel the heat radiating of him on his back.

He shuddered, and not only because the first droplets of water were a bit cold but because of their close proximity, and all the resulting possibilities out of it.

'I only need to turn around and...'

His thought stopped instantly as slender hands encircled him from behind, grabbed the shower gel in front of him and started working up a good lather.

Richie stood in this awkward embrace and watched fascinated how the soapy hands moved against one another until they were covered in foam, parted and moved towards his upper body.

He groaned as these skilled hands began what resembled less lathering but rather massaging him, slippery hands slowly glided all over his torso, his belly and finally down to his hips.

The younger craved for the hands to wander even lower as the loose grip on his hips suddenly became firm and he was yanked backwards against his lover.

The moment he felt a solid hard-on rub between his hind cheeks he became aware of the fact that while he himself had already found completion in the kitchen the old man hadn't and was probably beyond turned on by now.

Without a word, Richie leaned forward and braced himself against the tiled wall, spreading his legs, a clear invitation.

He heard the distinctive 'click' of the soap bottle as Methos poured himself another dose to prepare him. Was it because they both were that eager, or could it be that his shower gel was the best lube in the world? Anyway, the redhead felt as if he was stretched and ready in no time.

Though the moment he was entered, all musings about lube or soap were gone, his mind went totally blank given the fast, fervent pace Methos was setting.

Richie moaned and wailed his pleasure to the heavens, pressed against the cold tiles, his cock scraping with each trust over the rough interstices; and he loved it.

One stray thought managed to form in his lust fogged brain 'I don't want to live without this feeling ever again'- which sobered his mind harsher than a bucket of ice water.

His body still aflame, he realized that he would have to live without this sooner or later; that even tonight could be their last time together. Methos and he weren't an item in any way but only a sex fling; the living hell his life had been these past days without him was only a short foretaste of what was to come when the old man would be tired of him for good one day.

The mere thought was unbearable; burning tears ran down his cheeks, undetected due to the deluge of water raining down on the couple in the shower.

Just as Richie felt as if his heart was about to break, his body climaxed and the physical ecstasy mercifully stopped his dark train of thought.

Once it was over, he stumbled out of his shower, grabbed a towel and wobbled over to his bed on weak knees while drying off. Arriving there he collapsed onto the mattress, still panting.

He had assumed that Methos would already be dressing by now and was astounded when the old man slumped down beside him, wearing nothing but a towel, too. Apparently he was equally winded as the redhead, which gave the younger man kind of a sensation of pride.

Richie used the opportunity to study the sight of the gorgeous man next to him and had a strange feeling of déjà vu, of their first night, as he had tried to snuggle up to Methos only to be pushed away when the old man had jumped up to make a beeline for his pants.

Yet he couldn't resist touching the panting man lying beside him, he let his fingers run over the lean but chiselled chest down to the taut abdomen.

Oh how he wished he could just hold him, kiss him tenderly, fall asleep in his arms and be sure that he would still be there in the morning! He suppressed a sigh, the bleak thoughts from earlier were obviously returning, Richie only hoped the old man would leave in time before he would notice something.

However instead of getting up to dress and leave, Methos turned around to him and started to return his gentle caresses, his hands wandering all over him.

This surprised him, because usually the old man would run off as soon as he had got what he had come for and never stayed for a second round. Not that he was going to complain about it, not at all, it was the tenderness of his touch that caught him off guard. He shuddered as soft fingertips traced his jaw line and ghosted over his eyelids, sending his already confused emotions into chaos.

The way Methos stroked him was more than tender, it was affectionate, almost…lovingly.

'Could it be…?' He thought, prayed, with pounding heart; although his mind told him to be realistic, that he was just misinterpreting things and should stop fooling himself.

But his heart didn't give a shit about logic; it _wanted_ to believe that Methos cared for him, even if the harsh reality would destroy it afterwards.

Richie looked into these beautiful, unreadable eyes, and the inner turmoil in him became nearly unbearable. He could all but feel how his sane mind committed seppuku as he against his better judgement gave in and allowed himself to believe the illusion.

He pulled his lover on top of him, eager to have as much body contact as possible, to feel skin on skin from head to toe, determined not to think at all but to simply enjoy.

What followed was a wonderful experience; like in some erotic dream every move fit perfectly, thanks to their previous shower activities there was no need for additional preparation, all went just smooth.

Richie embraced Methos wholeheartedly, clung to him and wished this moment would last forever - though he had to fight against voicing the three little words running through his mind non-stop, so hard he bit onto his lips until he tasted blood and felt the prickling his own healing quickening.

The final peak was plainly beyond all description.

However, as soon as Methos had recuperated from his orgasm, he got up and dressed in order to leave while the redhead faked tiredness, as always.

The moment the old man had closed the door behind him, Richie finally whispered the words aloud, for the first time admitting the truth to himself.

"I love you."

Then he finally lost his composure and broke down crying.

--

In the meantime, while walking down the staircase, Methos was cursing himself profusely.

The truth was he hadn't mean to be detected by the kid at the community centre; he had just wanted to see him, to prove himself that he wasn't _that _attracted to the younger immortal and could resist him if he wanted to…which had obviously proved to be wrong.

Because when Riche had left the building through the nearer side- instead through the further afar main door, so he of course had felt his buzz and had walked over to where he had been parking, one look into his blue eyes had sufficed and he couldn't delude himself any longer that he wasn't drawn to the kid.

As hypnotized he had opened the passenger door for him, had driven towards his apartment and had followed him upstairs.

Once inside the flat, he had plain and simple lost control, something _very_ unusual for him.

Heck, he had basically pounced on the kid! Luckily, Richie had seemingly been just as insatiable and eager as he himself and hadn't minded a bit to get all but ravished in his own kitchenette.

When he stepped out of the building and onto the street, a sudden gust of ice-cold wind jolted Methos out of his deep thoughts.

It took him only seconds to remember two things, one: he really disliked freezing winter weather; and two: his sweater was still lying in Richie's kitchen.

With his car keys inside its pocket.

He groaned, turned round and started going back the same way.

--


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All I own are a few songs from Queen with which I created my own Soundtrack…that's all.

Thanks to: 66Witch, your question will be answered in this chapter! And I fear, there's only one more left…but I'm thinking about a follow-up, though I can't go into details here.

Litany Riddle…thanks for a review that made me choke on my Coke! Honestly, if I ever have sex in a shower, I'm gonna think of you + your advice…and I resist the temptation to ask wherefrom exactly you got this valuable knowledge LOLOLOL

Note: Damn, this chapter was a bitch to write!! You see, when I write a scene, I literally see it before my mind's eye…and this time some of the pictures were everything but nice. I did my best to create a memory horrible enough to give Methos nightmares, even after millennia.

So be warned, this chapter deserves the 'M' rating for cruelty.

-- 6. Truths --

Not wanting to rouse his sleeping lover, Methos decided to use his lock pick to open the apartment door. He hoped that if he worked fast enough, he could call an all-clear towards the bedroom that it was just him before the buzz would jolt the redhead out of his dreams in the most unpleasant way.

Methos knew from own experience that there was nothing better to ruin ones sleep than the sudden rush of adrenaline of an unidentified buzz that could possibly turn out to be a nasty head-hunter.

It took him indeed only seconds to pick the lock open, but his buzz was faster than he had anticipated.

"Sorry kid, it's just me, I've forgotten something."

The old man looked through the open bedroom door, absolutely convinced to see a drowsy but combat-ready redhead, with drawn sword and in a bad temper.

What he saw instead inside the dimly lit room was so different from what he had expected that he blinked and needed to look twice. Richie was lying motionless on his side, curled up in a ball with his back towards him and showed no reaction at all.

"Richie?"

"Go away."

The words were whispered so quietly he could barely hear them. But he could clearly see the slight shivers that had started running through the kid's body, although he obviously tried his best to suppress them.

Methos felt his hackles rising, this whole scenario was beyond weird.

Carefully he approached the unmoving figure on the bed and reached out towards his shoulder to turn him around, but Richie flinched from his touch and jumped up like a scalded cat.

"Don't touch me!!"

O.K, now he was slowly but surly getting irritated, no wonder, less than ten minutes ago the other immortal had clutched onto him for dear life and couldn't get enough contact, and now he was acting like a prude!

"What's on earth got into you?!"

Richie's shivering intensified to the point his teeth were almost chattering. To him, this was a nightmare come true. His pent-up emotions were getting completely out of hand; he knew that he was short of a breakdown and that his last strand of self-control was wearing thin, rapidly.

"Just leave me alone, Please!!" He begged once more, on the verge of tears.

"Not until I know what's wrong with you!"

That did it, Richie snapped.

"You want to know what's wrong with me?" he all but yelled.

"I'm not some insensately bastard who can sleep with someone and spend time with someone having fun together without feeling a thing! Blame it on my youth and lack of experience, but I just can't…no matter how hard I try - and believe me, I did try!"

He choked back a sob and continued somewhat calmer "I know myself that it's idiotic, that I should simply enjoy and settle for what we share, yet whenever you leave at night, I feel so…empty. And it grows worse, meanwhile it takes me the whole weekend to clamp the lid on these feelings, but I manage it. I'm really savouring and cherishing each moment that I'm with you; be it the mornings at Joe's bar or the nights in my bed, but…"

Richie swallowed, unknowingly embracing himself as if he was feeling cold and lowering his gaze with embarrassment "when you were so suddenly gone last Saturday, without a single word…it was pure hell. Though at least it made me realise the truth…"

Blue eyes shining with unshed tears he whispered "I love you."

Silence. Complete and absolute silence.

Methos took a deep breath, he could see that Richie was being serious, that he truly believed himself to be in love; whereas he was convinced that it was a mere infatuation, or maybe a sort of hero-worshiping of the 'oldest man alive'.

There was no way that he _really_ loved him.

He figured it was the best for the young man to understand this himself as soon as possible so he could get over his crush; but he needed to be tender with him, for he didn't want the kid's feelings to get hurt even further.

Methos didn't allow himself to think about his own feelings right now, chose his words carefully and didn't even realize how bitter he sounded.

"Listen Richie…you know nothing of who I am, of who I was. How can you love me?"

"No human can ever know the other inside out, no matter how long they know each other."

The red head gave a sad smile,

"But if it's your past as a horseman that's bothering you – I already know about it."

Methos looked at him in disbelief, totally knocked off his feet.

"You remember the 'disagreement' between me and Mac a few days prior to Amanda's call, the one we both didn't wanted to talk about whether to you or Joe?"

Too aghast to speak, the ancient could only answer with a nod, hence Richie gave a brief summary of his talk with Mac, concluding with the words:

"The holy highlander thought it was necessary to warn me about you, that I'm no match for you – which of course is right, I have absolutely no doubt that you could easily take my head anytime you want, no matter if I'm on guard or not, and most probably Macs too. Honestly, even before I knew who you really are I never bought your 'rusty sword'-act, no one as paranoid as you risks getting out of shape."

Methos silently agreed, of course he would never slack in his training, being in good shape was a question of survival in the game.

He was, and not for the first time, amazed at the keen mind hidden deep inside the normally slightly naive acting young man. Richie's sense of pragmatism reminded him sometimes a bit of himself, yet he was still so young and full of dreams.

'Maybe that's why I'm so fascinated of him – he's like I used to be, way back, before…'

The memories he had struggled against these past days were creeping up on him again, the screams, the stench, it took all his willpower to fight them off.

Misreading his tense expression and silentness as rejection, Richie got desperate.

"I don't give a damn for your past; all I want is to play a role in your future, no matter how minor…please!" His heart clenched with fear. 'Don't abandon me…I couldn't bear it.'

Suddenly, he couldn't stand Methos gaze any longer and turned away. He leaned against the nearest wall, forehead scrapping over the plaster, and awaited the dreaded sound of his apartment door slamming behind a leaving for good Methos.

The tension of the situation, along with the stress of the last days, took its toll; Richie unconsciously started to bang his head against the wall.

He mumbled, more soliloquizing than actually talking to Methos "If I think about that, when you came back again, I vowed to myself to use every opportunity to be with you once more but not to beg for it, that I won't turn into a male slut for no one - and now I'm basically on my knees. So much about preserving my dignity. How pathetic." He snorted self-disgusted.

"And you know what the worst is? I don't care!!" Richie all but screamed the last part, and because he was still facing the wall he was totally unaware of the impact the words had on the other man.

Hearing the very words from his nightmare yelled at him aloud, Methos lost his internal battle and drowned in the painful memories.

Richie noticed that something was wrong as he heard a choked sound behind him.

Turning around, he saw that Methos was still standing in the same spot beside his bed, but his whole demeanour had changed drastically.

His gaze was totally unfocused; he was swaying, gasping, and even in the dim light from the streetlamps outside one could clearly see that he was as pale as a ghost.

The younger immortal had absolutely no idea what had triggered this behaviour and had gotten him into this stunned state, but he instantly forgot his own problems at the sight.

"Methos?" He carefully approached him, and after receiving no reaction, touched his shoulder to shake him slightly. "Say something, please. You're frightening me here."

The meaning of his words went unheard, but not the worry in his voice. Methos gaze became clearer and settled onto the redhead.

He saw in Richie's eyes and found genuine concern shining in them, and deeper inside something like a warm glow. The same glow he had seen in his eyes for quite some time now whenever they had been together. Tonight after they had left the shower and had lain down side by side it had been especially strong.

Now, Methos finally allowed himself to see and recognise the meaning of this look:

Richie _did_ love him.

With his emotional barriers still down he was unable to deny any longer that he deep inside yearned for someone to love him, but not the mask he hid behind, or the legend he was supposed to be or the myth people had made of him, just plain and simple _him_.

'Could it be…?' he thought, wondered 'could _Richie_ be…?'

A hand softly caressing his cheek jolted Methos out of his thoughts just as he was about to try to explain them to Richie.

That was when it happened: something, maybe the tenderness of this touch, maybe the whole situation, caused a gigantic flashback that hit him with the force of a mental demolition ball.

The shock nearly brought him to his knees; with a strangled outcry he grabbed for Richie, clung to him, for physical support as well as for emotional.

The surprised redhead reacted purely instinctive and half dragged, half shoved Methos back towards his bed before they both would crash onto the floor.

He could hear his friend sobbing words in a language he himself couldn't even identify let alone understand, but he began to understand what was going on; it wasn't the first time he saw an older immortal trapped in some horrible memory.

Richie knew from experience that there was nothing he could do but wait and see.

With Methos still clutching onto him for dear life, he ended up sitting with him astride in his lap in a tight hug, gently stroking his back to calm him down and whispering what he hoped were soothing words.

"Everything's gonna be alright. You're not alone. I'm with you."

Simple words of comfort, the same every child had heard from his mother since the dawn of mankind, and they worked, the convulsive sobbing slowly ceased.

The first thing Methos was aware of when he came back to his mind was that he was being held in a tender embrace with his head lying on Richie's shoulder.

The whole position he was in should have felt awkward, but instead felt strangely good and…right. A surprisingly big part of him was simply glad for once not to be forced to be strong but to be the one taken care of.

With a start he realised that he trusted Richie enough to just relax and lean onto him without the slightest bit of suspicion.

'I haven't felt that way around another immortal since…' he closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Maybe it was time to finally tell this story to someone, if only because the younger deserved an explanation.

"I can't even remember her face, let alone her name, but I do remember the love shining in her eyes when she looked at me and how good it felt to hold her in my arms. By the time we met we both had already buried and bemoaned a couple of mortal loved ones and were overjoyed to have found someone that won't die on us. We were naïve enough to believe that nothing and no one could ever tear us apart…

_Flashback_

He had come out of the desert, a nameless stranger who owned nothing but the raddled clothes he wore and a pitted dagger. Like every foreigner he was brought to the temple, to let the high priest decide if he was allowed to stay.

He had answered the man's questions truthfully (well, as truthfully as he could as an immortal), that he was a scribe and a fighter, and was, after swearing an oath to help defending the oasis against enemies if necessary, accepted.

It turned out that the merchants had been in dire need of someone to translate between them and passing by caravans, so his language skills were most welcome.

Soon he was a respected citizen and thus allowed to go inside the temple with the others to worship the sun goddess, sacred patroness of the town.

That was where he first met her.

She was the holy maiden of the temple, beloved by all, people believed her to be the daughter of the sun itself for she was just as unfading.

Of course she was an immortal, but she didn't know it, even she herself thought that her eternal youth was a gift from her celestial mother.

When she felt his buzz for the first time she was stunned, yet quick-thinking enough not to let on anything but to seek him out and question him in private.

His answers shocked her to her core though she couldn't deny the facts, wherefrom else should he have known that she was a foundling, or about the little sparks flickering in her wounds right before they healed? Seeing a wound in his flesh healing in just the same manner erased her last doubts.

He became her secret friend and confidant, the only one she could talk about the downside of immortality with, for no mortal could really understand how hard it was to outlive everyone around…and one of these days they fell in love.

It was a disaster; she was supposed to be devoted to the temple and stay pure and chaste.

For her to marry and live a life of her own was unthinkable, but with the typical arrogance of century-children they were sure to find a way. Maybe he could be declared as offspring of a god too, being immortal just like her?

In their minds, everything seemed to be possible, after all they were old enough to know more than every mortal around them…. but alas still way too young to realise of how little worth that was.

However, before they could come up with a solution, they were caught in a lovers embrace.

He was put in chains instantly.

Her attempts to explain matters to the high priest by showing of his healing ability only added insult to injury.

_End of Flashback_

"They now thought that I was some kind of demon who had bewitched and tainted her and that she needed to be purified to become herself again.

As daughter of the sun goddess she was to be cleansed of her sins through her mother's element…fire. So they chained her to the stone pillar of the grand sundial in front of the temple, piled dry firewood up to her knees and lit the stack. The high priest tried one last time to make her see the error of her ways, but she refused adamantly. Her last intelligible words were 'I don't care, I love him'…after that…only screams…" Methos voice died away, he was momentarily unable to continue.

Richie held his fitfully breathing form tightly, his own face wet from tears, too.

After a while, the older continued his tale with a constrained voice.

"I don't know how long it took her to finally die; her screams seemed to go on endlessly. In the end all that was left of her was a vaguely human-shaped piece of charcoaled flesh.

Some bones were burst due to the heat, their fragments sticking out.

Even I doubted for a moment if an immortal could survive injuries that severe, but then the first sparks of her healing Quickening started to flicker over the black mass.

Slowly, very slowly coal became flesh again.

Seeing this frightened her people even more, not the healing itself, but the sparks. They had only seen her body heal little cuts and bruises but never a really deep flesh wound so they didn't know and recognise the sparks as a part of her healing ability.

On the other hand they had clubbed and beat me various times while they had made me watch her suffer and seen these sparks in my flesh, now seeing it on her too seemed to be a sure sign of her being possessed by me.

The first 'failure' to purify her with fire didn't change their conviction, by the time she came back, still with third-degree burnings all over and screaming in agony, they had already pilled more wood around her and were fanning the flames again."

At this point of his story Methos voice broke, it was clear that the memory of this horrible day had never ceased to torment him. He resumed his story with a noticeably anguished tone.

"I begged and pleaded for them to stop, but they just didn't listen. They stoked up the fire again and again, each time it took her weakening Quickening longer to bring her back which only served these fanatics as a proof that their sick plan was working and my power over her was diminishing. I was really racking my brains, desperately trying to find a way out, but there was none…only her never-ending screams of pain and agony. There was only one thing left I could do for her, only one way to end this nightmare."

Richie closed his eyes, he knew what was coming. Methos voice grew low.

"I told the high priest that in order to break my spell over her they needed to behead her.

At first he was suspicious, but I guess the utter desperation in my voice and face convinced him that I had really surrendered. Her unleashed Quickening got the people running for cover, scared to death, and broke my chains. I took the first camel I found, loaded it with waterskins and headed back into the desert. And I vowed to myself nevermore to get closely involved with another immortal. I never wanted to get hurt that much again…"

He sat up slowly and looked at Richie.

"Last Saturday I ran off because I was scared…for when I saw you with this waitress… I suddenly felt jealous."

The young mans eyes grew wide. "You mean you…?" He didn't even dare to say it out aloud.

Methos only shrugged somewhat embarrassed, but that was all the answer Richie needed. He had to fight back a face-splitting grin and kissed him. Then he yawned "How about we call it a day and get some sleep? We can talk about everything else tomorrow…maybe you could stay the night, just this once?"

The last request came out very shy and hesitant; the redhead was unsure and anxious how his lover would react, but Methos simply shrugged once more. "O.k. kid, why not?"

He disentangled from their embrace, stripped and crawled under the covers beside the younger.

This time, as Richie tried to snuggle up, he wasn't pushed away but drawn nearer.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Still, nothing belongs to me…what a surprise!

Note: A very big 'Thank you!' to 66Witch, the sole person who bothered to leave a review for the last chapter.

Honestly folks, if it weren't for the story stats I can see in my profile I would get depressive! But thanks to those stats I know that a lot of people out there are reading this story. Funny thing, I have more people putting it on alert or even in their favourites than reviews…could it be that you're just afraid to read your name connected with an M-rated story?!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the last chapter….and check out the note on the bottom, too!

-- Chapter 7: Scrambled eggs and Future plans --

As Richie awoke on this Saturday morning, he was alone. No Methos, neither beside him in bed nor somewhere else in his flat.

For a moment he even doubted that the last night had happened at all, mind you, a breaking down Methos, how realistic was this? The old bastard was probably cool enough to make hell freeze over with one look. No way had he been sitting on his lap crying!

Just as he considered calling Joe and asking him if there was some sort of nuthouse for immortals existing, he felt a buzz.

His apartment door was opened and a well-known voice called:"Hey Richie, are you up yet? I've bought us some breakfast supplies, honestly kid, even a monastery during Lenten season has more stores than you. Just for your information: contrary to popular belief I'm not living on beer alone!"

Without thinking Richie was on his feet and out of his bedroom, flinging himself into the arms of a surprised Methos.

"Thought you were gone….that you weren't here at all…just some weird nightmare…"

Somehow the ancient could make sense of his incoherent babbling.

"I'm sorry Richie; I should have left you a note before I went to the store but I haven't even thought about what you would think when you wake up while I'm gone. Guess it'll need some time to readjust myself again to sharing my life with someone…"

The last part he murmured, more to himself than to the redhead, yet the young man heard him and suddenly felt as if he could burst with happiness.

"Its o.k, I'm sorry I overreacted that way…now, what did you bought for breakfast? I could eat a horse!"

Methos began to unpack the groceries. "Nothing fancy, just bread, milk, some eggs…I fear my cooking skills are mostly limited to dishes one can prepare with a cauldron or a skewer, but I'm quite good at scrambled eggs."

Richie grinned. "Sounds great."

They began to prepare their meal together; Richie put on the water for some coffee and grabbed a knife to cut the bread while the older searched for a bowl and an eggbeater.

While he was slicing up the bread and Methos whisked the eggs, the redhead started talking again.

"I can't really cook either, unless you count heating frozen pizza and canned stuff as cooking. The only dish I'm decent at is Crêpe Suzette; Tessa taught me how to make them. Oh, and Muffins, my kid sister Maria and I used to bake dozens each Sunday for afternoon coffee with the whole family…you know, the girl Kristin wanted to kill."

He explained seeing his friends questioning glance and smiled at the memory of one of the very few good things that had happened in his childhood.

"We spent roughly one year at the same foster family and came to truly being fond of one another. To this day we're writing each other almost regularly, though of course I can never see her again. She was really disappointed I didn't make it to her wedding last year."

Richie sighed.

"I was supposed to be her best man, but I could only watch from the shadows as she went down the aisle – alone."

Methos gave him a sympathetic smile. "You had no choice, Richie. If it was me or Mac, we could brush some grey in our hair to appear older, but your facial features are just too young to make you look any older than mid-twenty at the most, no matter what you do."

"I know, but with every lame excuse why I can't come for a visit I'm hurting her further. And in her last letter she told me that she and Mathew are thinking about children…I already dread the moment she asks me to act as godfather. She'll never forgive me if I decline."

"Hm…how about if you tell her that you're in a sort of witness protection program? That would be a believable explanation why you can't have personal contact with her anymore. Though you would have to correspondent with her indirectly, over a PO-Box or e-mail, to make it authentic but would be able to participate in her life and that of her kids from afar for years to come."

"That's an awesome idea!" Richie beamed and drew his friend into a hug. "Thank you so much, you have no idea what it means to me to stay in touch with her."

"You're welcome…and now get your ass over onto the couch, breakfast is ready."

Methos´ scrambled eggs proved to be not quite good but simply awesome, which lifted their mood enormously and led the conversation once more back to cookery. The old mans former mention of cooking with a skewer caused a snickering Richie to ask him if he could prepare a wild hog à la Obelix which earned him an amused glare and a "Sure thing, kid."

Some when their chat drifted to Richie's school marks and the fact that he was about to go into finals in a few weeks what of course brought up the topic what he wanted to do afterwards, go straight to college like Mac hoped or stay in Seacouver.

These questions made Richie visibly nervous; he squirmed in his seat and did everything to avoid a concrete answer. Truth to be told, he knew very well what he wanted to do, but was afraid to tell his newfound lover, cause he wasn't sure if he could dare to include Methos into his plans for the future.

Sure the old man had kind of admitted that he had feelings for him too last night, and mumbled something about sharing lives this morning, but did that mean he was willing to quit his good job here in Seacouver and move with him to an university town?

Not to mention that this could turn the spotlight of the watchers on their former member 'Adam Pierson' in a most unwanted way.

It didn't bear contemplating how they would react if they found out that he was immortal, and had already been back when he was working for them.

Out of the blue, as if he could read his mind, Methos said: "You know, if you want to go to college, how about San Francisco? It's a nice multicultural city, warm, sunny climate, great beach and a good university… which I happen to own a house with student's flats close to, so we wouldn't have to bother about paying rent."

Richie was wide-eyed. "Jeez, is it really that easy to see through me?"

The older just shrugged and smiled. "Only for a lifelong student of human nature."

The redhead snorted. "Yeah right..." he took a deep breath, time to talk in earnest.

"You would really give up your existence here and move to Frisco with me, bearing in mind all kind of trouble this could cause with the watchers?"

His answer was a calm nod.

Richie was at a loss. "Why? I mean, not that I'm complaining, I would love to live with you, but …what do you expect from this, from me?"

Now it was Methos time to squirm and search for the right words. "Honestly, I don't know it Richie, but I'm willing to give this a try and see what the future brings…though I can't give you a guaranty how it's going to turn out or that it will last forever, maybe we'll end in an on-off relationship like Mac and Amanda or maybe…can't we just enjoy the here and now, for as long as we're both happy?" he ended, almost pleadingly, and Richie understood.

After all, he knew Methos well enough to know how vehemently he usually shied away from any kind of commitment, by his standards he was downright going out on a limb with his offer to go with him into another town and move in together.

Richie smiled and took his hand "I don't need a guaranty to be happy with you, Methos.

And 'Forever' is a huge word for people with our potential lifespan; there's probably no one who knows this better than you, this whole 'till death does us apart' thing might work for mortals but not for our kind, so enjoying the here and now works perfectly fine for me."

Methos shoulders slackened, he exhaled relieved – until Richie went on.

"Just promise me one…no, two things."

Green hazel eyes focused onto the redhead, the older was visibly all ears.

"One: that we'll always be honest with one another. I know how big your desire for freedom and independence is, so if you feel like you have to go and be alone for some time, tell me and I'll understand, just don't vanish into thin air for months without any prior warning like usual, ok? Same goes if you're tired of me one day or simply want to be with a woman again, I promise I won't snap and go berserk on you."

Methos nodded, that wasn't a hard condition but quite natural and a matter of respect for the other.

"Two: that we'll always be friends, no matter what." Richie looked him straight in the eye, to emphasise that he was dead serious. "I never ever want to fight against you."

This came unexpected and forced the older to swallow hard around the sudden lump inside his throat before he could answer, just as serious. "Neither do I, kid."

An impulse out of nowhere caused him to pull Richie into his arms and hold him tight. The redhead returned the warm embrace gladly, both a bit shaken by the huge decision they had made, the enormous turn their life had taken in the last twenty-four hours and all the problems that were still lying ahead of them.

"Hey, and if we're gonna be the last ones, we just flip a coin!" It was probably the lamest joke ever, but it broke the tension, they laughed until tears ran down their cheeks.

"I wonder what Macleod will say to this new kind of fight between immortals."

Richie chuckled, only to turn pale the next second. "Oh shit, Mac! If he's already freaking out about us becoming _friends_…dude, he's _so_ going to lose it!!"

This sobered Methos too, he could really do without having an angry Scot on his heels, thank you. It wasn't that he couldn't take him if needs must, but he knew that trouble between him and Mac would hurt Richie.

"Well, I would say we better wait a bit, give him some time to get used to the idea of us being friends and you growing up before we tell him the 'good news'. Luckily he won't think anything of it if you're moving; he'll think it's only because of college."

"Yeah, but how do we explain that you're moving too, after you've just settled down here, and into the same town like me?"

"Hm..." Methos slouched on the couch, obviously deep in thoughts. Richie used the break in their conversation to carry their dishes into the kitchen. Returning he handed his friend a beer, thinking that this might fuel his scheming genius.

And it seemed to work, about halfway through the bottle's content the old man looked up, an amused sparkle in his eyes and a grin forming on his face.

"How about we kill two birds with one stone? And give Macleod a real good explanation why we're living together plus solve the problem with the watchers at the same time?"

Richie's evident confusion at this statement caused Methos grin to grow even more.

"How about we kill 'Adam Pierson' – and make him your student?"

Blue eyes wide as saucers, the younger blurted out the first thing on his mind: "Joe would get a heart-attack!!"

Then, after thinking about it for a moment "And the watchers would never buy it, I'm way too young to have a student."

"On your own, yes - but finishing the education of a newbie that got already taught the majority from an older one, basically just helping a greenhorn during his first steps in the big bad world of immortality?"

That got the redhead's attention. "What exactly do you have in mind, old man?"

"We kill us both in a way that your watcher witnesses it, we'll rise, me being appropriately shocked that I'm now one of 'them', you lead my terrified ass away, calming me down the best you can. The very next day we both disappear from the watcher's radar for several months, leaving behind clues that you're escorting me to a teacher, while in truth we're enjoying a nice long vacation in a far-off corner of the world where no one can find us.

Meanwhile the stunned watchers have time to realize that their former researcher 'Adam Pierson' never had access to up-to-date chronicles that could give him an unfair advantage in the game or make him a danger of any kind to their organisation and had always been a peace-loving, harmless guy anyway."

At this, Richie couldn't help but laugh.

"We surface again in Frisco and make sure that the watchers see us sparing together with you showing me stuff. As a rookie that hasn't yet completed his education it's perfectly normal for me to live with my teacher for some time, so no one will get suspicious if we are flat-sharing an apartment simply perfect for our purpose, near campus and on holy ground to boot."

He took another swig from his beer before continuing.

"Sure, Mac will be complaining that I'm only using you to make myself a new identity in the chronicles, but I can live with that. And once he sees that being around me isn't turning you into the heart- and ruthless bastard that I am, we can start to think about telling him that we're sharing more than just a flat."

The last part came out so self-mocking and yet with such a suggestive wink that Richie chuckled and blushed at the same time.

"Fortunately Joe can always warn us in time if the holy highlander wants to make a surprising visit to check on you. He'll be a very useful ally with keeping us a secret, not to mention with making 'Adam Pierson' immortal. Joe can easily blight any doubts that his fellow watchers might have about our story and…you're ok, kid?"

During his last words, Richie's face had taken on a surprising colour-mix, ghostly pale with bright red cheeks.

"Uh…" he cleared his throat "I'm not so sure that Joe will be willing to help us with this – or you with anything, for that matter."

Blackish-brown eyebrows shot up. "Explain."

"Well, you see, he found me last Saturday - or more like early Sunday morning - in his bar, pretty drunk and downhearted, and I kinda told him everything…" he gulped.

Methos sighed. "How bad is it?"

"By the time I was crying on his shoulder he looked pissed enough to shove his cane up your ass."

"Understandable, he loves you like a son…we'll have a hard time convincing him that I'm being serious with you."

These words worked wonders to lift the redhead's mood; he just couldn't get enough of hearing his love saying that he meant business.

Suddenly, with butterflies flying around in his stomach, nothing seemed to be impossible anymore.

"Nah, I'll call him later and tell him everything's fine, and when him and Mac return Joe can see for himself how happy I'm with you. Speaking of happiness, I still have several hours till my shift at the bar starts – any smart ideas what we could do until then? " grinned the younger and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

Methos returned the grin "Maybe…" With that said he reached out and pulled Richie into his arms to kiss him.

--

Over the next weeks the two became almost inseparable. They spent almost every night together at the younger's apartment and the mornings at the bar, though unlike before they didn't just chat but were busy with Richie's schoolbooks due to his soon approaching final exams.

They were only apart during the redhead's courses at the dojo, time the old man used to do his own work as translator.

Despite the stress from all the learning beside his work, Richie was literally glowing with happiness. He couldn't wait for Joe and Mac to return so he and Methos could finally start with the first step for their new life together: turning 'Adam Pierson' officially into an immortal.

Richie was already secretly informing himself about the University of Frisco and which courses he could enrol, tuitions fees and the beginning of terms. He figured that his savings would last for two semesters, three if he sold his bike, and was determined to get himself a job as soon as possible once he and Methos had settled in.

No way he would sponge on his lover, or even worse, ask Mac for money!

After that memorable weekend they had gotten together Richie had called Joe to bring him up to date with the recent developments between him and Methos.

Needless to say the elder man was thunderstruck; he had left the kid as a heartbroken wreck and now, only three days later he was brimming over with joy and planning a shared future with the old man. Joe's first reaction had been fear, thinking that the kid had lost his mind and was in some state of delusion, but Richie had only laughed and had handed the phone to Methos who had confirmed everything the redhead had said - which had caused Joe to doubt his own sanity.

Although how he had seen him act way back with Alexa, somehow he just couldn't picture Methos being in love, and with Richie of all people.

Only a few days after this extraordinary phone call Mac finally got that bastard who had been messing with Amanda so he would return to Seacouver soon, surprisingly with Amanda in tow. Those two had gotten real close again and wanted to try for the umpteenth time to live together.

While they were still handling the last troubles with the police and packing her stuff, Joe already flew ahead.

The watcher was really anxious, unsure about what was awaiting him at home. Somehow he still couldn't wrap his mind around those two being a couple, he simply needed to see it himself to believe it.

Joe didn't need to wait long for an opportunity because the two were waiting for him at the airport to pick him up. Richie carried his luggage and happily babbled away, he wanted to know how Mac and Amanda were doing and told him about his school marks, all in one breath.

Methos was quiet as always and simply slouched along beside them towards his Jeep, but there was a content little smile on his face that Joe had never seen before. The old cynic seemed almost …happy.

After a short ride they arrived at the bar, and once everyone got a drink Joe decided it was time for some straight talking.

He had to admit that the plan how to make 'Adam Pierson' immortal was brilliant, but that was to be expected, it was Methos´ plan after all. The watcher knew very well that the two could pursue this plan without his help just as well; he had no doubt that his fellow watchers would by their act.

Joe's only way to stop them would be telling Mac, but that would end the friendship between Mac and Methos for good and might even lead to a challenge. Not to mention that neither Richie nor Methos would talk to him ever again.

Joe sighed deeply; he desperately wanted to do the right thing for the kid, if only he knew what that was. Richie was so happy, so obviously in love…if only he could be sure that Methos returned the kid's feelings!

However he knew that the old man was the epitome of inscrutableness and would never give his true feelings away if he didn't want to.

Therefore, when the redhead went to the restroom, Joe used the opportunity to look him straight into the eye and simply asked "Just tell me one thing, do you love him?"

Methos returned his look and remained quiet at first, thinking.

He knew that Joe really cared for Richie, secretly loved him like a son, and was currently probably worried sick about him.

So he decided to do something very unusual, for a moment he dropped his mask and allowed the older looking man to see the truth in his eyes even before he answered.

"Yes…so much it scares me."

The confession came out whispered, almost timidly, but Joe heard it nonetheless - and understood.

Immortal couples may had a lesser risk to get challenged cause head-hunters knew that if they killed one the other would hunt them down relentlessly, but on the other side loosing the one you loved for centuries would almost always drive the surviving partner insane with grief in the end.

Joe shuddered; he could still remember Jacob Galati´s killing frenzy very well.

That Methos was willing to take this risk for Richie spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for the redhead. Joe relaxed visibly and allowed himself a smile, he had found his answer. They drank their beer in comfortable silence until Richie returned.

Once the young immortal sat beside them Joe sighed again, thinking about the earful he would get from Mac, the uproar among the watchers this would cause and…aw, dash it!

His relationship to the watchers had been dichotomous and strained ever since his friendship with Mac started anyway, and the highlander would simply have to calm himself, after all, he wasn't Richie's nanny, much less Methos´!

Joe chuckled to himself; at least he wouldn't get bored some time soon. He looked up at his two friends with a mischievous spark in his eyes.

"Well then, when do we want to kill 'Adam Pierson'?"

THE END!!

--

So the story is over…but I'm considering doing a sequel, about their life in Frisco, where some things don't go as planned - and I'm SO not going to give you some spoilers here…ok, maybe one: Mac will find out the truth about them. His reaction? Wait and see!

Everyone who left a signed review (or put this story on alert or in their favourites) will receive a notification when the time has come. Till then, have a nice day and enjoy your life!

Peya Luna


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Highlander, Drama, Romance