Part 1
Story notes: complete and utter fluff herein. we started this series on irc one evening just for the heck of it, because we thought the idea might be amusing. warning: this piece contains absolutely no redeeming literary quality! don't look for it, because it is not here! <g> it's preslash at the moment, although we definitely have plans for the quartet in upcoming installments. <veg>
by boyd & heidi
Duncan thumbed the label of the wine bottle in his hands with satisfaction: the fine vintage was a perfect touch for the meal he had planned. Tucking the bottle into the basket filled with other delicacies, he smiled wickedly to himself, anticipating his picnic with Amanda.
A little wine, a little culture, a bit of romance...Oh yes, the day was shaping up quite nicely.
Sitting beside him on the sofa, alluringly dressed in a tight red leather mini-skirt and white blouse, Amanda peered into the basket and frowned. "Duncan, dear. That's simply not going to be enough food."
"Not enough food?" Puzzled, he frowned and took inventory. "A bottle of wine. A carton of strawberries. An entire brie and two loaves of bread. How can that possibly not be enough food for two?"
"Two?" Amanda bit her lip and smiled prettily. "Um...Duncan? Actually, there will be four of us."
"Four?" He asked incredulously. How could one possibly have a romantic picnic for four?
"Well, yes. Of course." She smiled conclusively, pressing against him and playfully running a finger along the buttons of his shirt front. "I sort of invited Methos. And his friend Alex."
Duncan blinked, certain he'd misheard. "You what?"
"I invited Methos and his friend, Alex."
"You invited Methos and his friend to our romantic day? What were ye thinking, woman?" Admittedly, he was overreacting a bit, but he really had been looking forward to spending the day -- and of course the evening -- with Amanda. Alone. Entertaining another couple, especially when one half of that couple included Methos, was not exactly what he'd envisioned.
"Now, now, Duncan." Amanda batted her eyelashes and smiled enthusiastically. "It'll be fun."
"Fun?" Duncan was frankly aghast. "Me, you, Methos and some new girl-friend of his?" 'Fun' wasn't the first that came to mind. 'Painful' might be more appropriate. 'Torturous' might be even better. The notion of spending the day with the sarcastic, cynical, irritating, morally-challenged ancient Formerly Known as Death and his date made his teeth ache. Their friendship was on shaky enough ground as it was.
And what was with Methos and women named Alex, anyway?
"Alex is a boy, Duncan," Amanda said absently, eyeing the bottle of wine critically.
Studying his erstwhile lover, Duncan recognized all too well her carefully feigned nonchalance: she was up to something. Upon reflection, she had seemed a bit too enthusiastic about visiting the Louvre this afternoon. He'd foolishly attributed it to his winning charm and good looks. Rarely a particularly nostalgic person, Amanda tended to avoid museums unless she had her eye on a particular piece. Darkly, he wondered if he shouldn't have paid more attention to the list of this month's exhibits instead of his wine selection.
Belatedly, her comment about Alex penetrated, just as the buzz of another Immortal washed over them.
"Dammit Amanda --"
"You stay right there. I'll get it!" She danced towards the door to greet Methos. And Alex, whoever the hell he was.
Great. Just great.
Duncan rose from the couch, crossed his arms and glared as the two new arrivals made their way down the stairs to the living room.
"Adam! I'm so glad you could make it!" Amanda wrapped her arms around the eldest immortal, kissing his cheek as he reciprocated her hug. Releasing him, she turned to the ferally grinning dark-haired mortal standing beside him.
"And Alex --" Amanda's throaty, predatory growl startled Duncan. "--It's so good to see you, again!"
Duncan blinked, stunned, as she wrapped her arms around Alex, reached down, grabbed his ass and pulled him in for a long, wet kiss.
This was definitely not the romantic day he'd envisioned.
"What the hell is going on, you two?" he demanded.
"MacLeod!" Methos feigned astonishment. "You mean to tell me that in 400 years you've never seen a woman cop a feel?"
Duncan gaped numbly as the young man deepened the kiss and firmly squeezed Amanda's derriere in return.
The day was growing worse by the minute.
"Let the poor boy breathe, Amanda." Methos said, sauntering past the tableau. "He's only mortal."
Alex grinned at Methos over Amanda's shoulder, then winked, blowing the old man a kiss.
Pivoting on a heel, Methos turned abruptly, twined long graceful fingers in the Alex's dark hair and captured his lips in a kiss far more passionate than Amanda's. Several minutes passed while he devoured Alex, with Amanda deliciously squashed between them like pastry filling. Then, as abruptly, he broke the kiss, leaving the Amanda and Alex disheveled and reeling. "Tease."
Meanwhile, Duncan stared at the threesome, dumbfounded.
What exactly did one do when the heavens opened up and shat upon you? Surely, if he pondered deeply enough, he would find something amusing about this situation. Some cosmic irony of the sort that Methos thrived upon. Certainly, there must be some explanation for how his plans for a pleasant romantic outing with his long-term lover had degenerated into hosting a pan-sexual grope-fest in his living room.
As he struggled to close his jaw and re-engage his language faculties, Methos slouched over to the coffee table and rummaged in the picnic basket.
"So, MacLeod," Methos commented. "This isn't nearly enough food for four."
Duncan closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then, to twenty for good measure.
"And you seem to have forgotten the beer."
Counting to thirty-five didn't help either.
"Dammit! Of course there's not enough food for four!" His pulse hammered behind his left eye: always a bad sign. "I wasn't planning a picnic for four, you bloody mooch!"
Disengaging from Amanda, Alex slipped behind Methos, wrapping an arm around the immortal, mischief in his eyes. "Touchy, isn't he?"
Duncan glared at the young man -- who was proving to be every bit as infuriating as Methos-- and watched in stunned disbelief as Alex's hand slipped down Methos' chest, briefly and suggestively caressed his belt buckle, and traveled southward.
"What the hell are you two doing?"
Methos rolled his eyes. "Pull yourself out of the Dark Ages, Macleod."
"Now, boys!" Amanda called, slipping past Methos to Duncan's side and stroked his arm placatingly. "Play nice!"
Still annoyed about the unexpected change in plans, Duncan side-stepped her obvious ploy for reassurance.
"So what's for food?" Alex asked, releasing Methos and reaching for the basket.
Duncan slammed the lid hard, narrowly missing Alex's fingers - // Serves him right, dammit! // - and shoved the basket aside.
"It doesn't matter what's in the basket, because we're not taking it." Crossing his arms over his chest again, he felt somewhat vindicated, having regained some thin shred of control over the rapidly escalating situation.
Methos chuckled, apparently finding the entire situation -- not to mention Duncan's irritation -- amusing. But it was Alex's obvious amusement that, for some undefinable reason, rankled even more.
Theoretically, as a concerned friend, he should be pleased that Methos' had found a companion who so obviously adored him, especially after his grief over Alexa's death. But something about their extravagant body language annoyed him. The fact that Alex has seemed similarly familiar with Amanda's charms didn't win any points with him either. Granted, he and Amanda weren't exactly exlusive, but a man certainly didn't appreciate watching his lover being molested in his own living room.
Of course, Duncan didn't exactly appreciate Amanda's obvious enjoyment of said molestation either.
His irritated gaze swept over Amanda, who was appealingly mussed, Methos, whose wise-ass smirk simply begged to be erased by a right cross, and once again, Alex. The young man was pretty enough, to be sure. Short dark hair, compelling green eyes, muscular build and interestingly enough, minus a left arm. But something in his eyes, his lithe, fluid grace screamed 'assasain'. How the hell did he know Methos? Or Amanda for that matter?
"Uh, MacLeod?" Methos interrupted his ruminations. "If we're not taking the basket, what are we going to eat?"
Ignoring the question, Duncan instead pinned the young man with a hard stare. "So Alex. Exactly how do you know Adam?"
"Actually," the young man smiled even more brightly, "I met Methos through Amanda."
Surprised, Duncan frowned: Alex knew that 'Adam' was Methos?
The young man merely chuckled. "I thought you told me he knew who you were." Alex stated to Methos, his mouth never losing its smirk.
"And where exactly did you meet Amanda?" He pressed, refusing to be distracted.
"Let's just say that she needed some help, and I fit the bill."
Amanda shrugged innocently as if to say 'what's a girl to do?'.
"So, Duncan." Amanda adroitly changed the subject. "Since you don't want to go on the picnic, why don't we all go to a cafe for some lunch before we go to the museum?"
Staring at the threesome before him Duncan felt a strange sense of foreboding. He felt as if the earth had tilted subtly beneath his feet, as if the electricity of an on-coming storm had washed across his skin. The superstitious barbarian Scot in him, steeped in the faerie mysteries of his childhood, wanted to knock on wood, throw salt over his shoulder or head for holy ground. The modern 20th century man scoffed mentally, and then crossed himself, just in case.
"Lunch?" he asked, forcibly shrugging off the unease.
"Yes, Mac. Lunch. You know, that meal that comes after breakfast and before dinner that generally includes -"
"I know what lunch is, you dolt." So nice to see that Methos hadn't lost his irritating touch.
Lunch -- it was just lunch. He would lunch with these three, ditch Methos and Alex and then corner Amanda for the real story. And, there was most definitely something afoot. He felt an unpleasant sensation in his belly as he watched Methos nibble lightly on Alex's ear lobe. Growling to himself, he vowed to corner Methos later and pry loose that story as well.
Sweeping past the tableau, he stalked to the door and grabbed his coat, pausing to sheath his katana dramatically.
"Well. Come on. You wanted lunch? Let's go." Forcing a smile, he opened the door with a flourish.
The trio shrugged, linked arms and trouped sideways through the door, smiling gaily.
Watching them cross the deck and practically skip down the gangway, Ducan had the sublime, albeit juvenile, satisfaction of slamming the door to the barge after them.
To Be Continued...