Losing the Good, by Tansy (Highlander)

Disclaimer: Characters of Duncan, Methos, Joe, etc. only borrowed.
Rated: NC-17 for explicit slash

Notes: Remember WAY back when Taselby issued that quotation challenge on the Duncan Slash list? Well, it took 1) meeting 'tilla, tarsh, soo, Lorie and others at Legacy to convince me that I could at least TRY and write, 2) the return of my laptop today which was allegedly being fixed at Micron, but I think was really doing unspeakable things with tarsh's laptop.....
This is my first fanfic, in fact, first creative writing in over 20 years, so please be kind. If, for some reason you think I should continue, let me know. I swear next time I'll try for a plotá.
Biggest thanks and virtual chocolates to Lorie for betaing, though all faults are mine of course. Thanks to tarsh for hosting it. Thanks to Taselby for the inspiring quote. Thanks to 'tilla, soo, tarsh, Lorie and others at Legacy for inspiration, and the fun(nie)st time I've had in ages. Finally, my belated thanks to all the wonderful authors whose stories I've enjoyed in the last few years, but never got around to emailing.

Archive: 7th Dimension, all others ask
Category: D/Methos slash. Adults only! Sap alert!

Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod sat on a barstool next to the world's oldest living immortal in the familiar surroundings of Joe's Bar, Seacouver. Methos looked out of the side of his eyes at the man lost in thought sitting next to him, and tried to figure out how the hell he had wound up back in Seacouver next to a brooding Scot. Again.

After the whole O'Rourke fiasco Duncan, much to everyone's surprise, had decided he wanted to go back to Seacouver. This would be his first trip back there since Richie's death. And of course, if Duncan was going Joe was following. Though, truth be known, Joe would be happy to be back home in the States, and especially Seacouver.

So Methos prepared himself to once again live a life without MacLeod. Really, it wouldn't be that different from his current relationship with Duncan -- in other words, characterized by adjectives like "cool," "distant" and "strained." Nothing had been the same since Bordeaux, though admittedly they were getting along better the more Bordeaux receded. Still, even now MacLeod claimed not to know him, and as far as Methos could tell didn't show any signs of wanting to know him either. MacLeod's little speech post the O'Rourke mess left Methos feeling cold and empty. He felt that any chance of taking their relationship to a more intimate level, or even back to their old pre-Bordeaux intimacy, was dead and should be given a decent burial.

Methos was somewhat surprised, then, when he got a call from Mac about a week before the scheduled departure inviting him to a farewell dinner on the barge. There was never really any question as to whether he would go or not. Despite a few minutes of vitriolic comments to himself in several dead languages about "moths" and "flames," Methos rationalized that in two weeks he would be outside of MacLeod's influence, and it wouldn't matter. And if there was one thing Methos definitely had down pat in 5000 years was rationalization.

As Methos approached the barge he felt MacLeod's distinctive buzz, but no others. Where was Amanda? He opened the door in response to MacLeod's, "Come in!"

MacLeod looked up from where he was working in the kitchen. "You know I knew it was you," he replied with a soft smile. "Grab a beer."

"Oh, she left to return to Toronto last week. I have a feeling she is more smitten with a certain detective there than she wants to admit." Mac replied.

Methos noticed that Mac did not seem to be disturbed by this turn of events, and it partially explained why he didn't feel the need to remain in Paris.

Wonderful smells were emanating from the kitchen -- Boeuf Bourguignon if his nose was right, and it usually was. Mac had pulled the table in front of the fireplace, and they ate the delicious meal in relaxed and comfortable camaraderie. The subject of MacLeod's imminent departure was ignored by mutual, if unvoiced agreement.

After dinner, over port and a game of chess in front of the fire, Methos was drifting. Trying to block out thoughts of just how much he was going to miss these evenings. He snapped back to the present when Mac cleared his throat.

"You know Methos, I hope you didn't take what I said about not knowing who you are the wrong way. I don't have your 5000 years of experience getting the words that come out of my mouth to reflect what I'm feeling inside." he said. "What I guess I was trying to say is that I realize now what a complex person you are, that I was wrong to try and create a version of you based on some mythic vision of you I had created. Your cracks about 'It's good to be a myth' notwithstanding." he grinned.

"Yeah, well it might be nice to be a myth to the outside world, I expect my friends to be more realistic." Methos said.

MacLeod peered down with an embarrassed look on his face and said, "What I would like is the opportunity to get to know all of you. To have the opportunity to learn from you."

MacLeod continued quietly, "I was wondering if there was any chance you might come back to Seacouver with me, I mean now that you're out of the Watchers, I thought you might not have any commitments that would keep you here..." MacLeod stammered out.

If Methos was speechless before, he was doing his best fish imitation now. Duncan MacLeod once again thinking that the world revolved around him. But maybe it did? Methos heard some part of himself (the brainless part) saying, "Well, I really don't have anything keeping me here in Paris. With the internet it doesn't really matter where I am as long as I can hook up my computer. I don't see why I couldn't go to Seacouver for awhile." His brain was still trying to figure out who was in control of his mouth -- his cock, or his heart?

So Methos the eldest sat at the bar realizing he had become part of the Duncan MacLeod Roadshow, as Duncan brooded quietly beside him. He had spent most of his flight from Paris (between beers) cursing under his breath in various dead languages, and wondering how someone he had only known for five of his 5000 years had so completely gotten under his skin. Five of 5000 years -- the equivalent in a mortal life of about 25 days, and he was completely obsessed. It was a good thing Kronos was dead because if he saw Methos mooning over MacLeod like this Methos would probably die of embarrassment. No pointy objects necessary. So much emotion, so much of his soul he had given in such a short time. Oh well, he thought, at least the miserable weather in Seacouver makes it easy to carry a sword. "Another beer, Joseph!" he called out.

Methos, Mac and Joe settled back into everyday life in Seacouver. Methos got a small apartment and a job managing a bookstore. After a lot of relaxed dinners and evenings at Joe's he and Duncan had regained much of the easy camaraderie that had been missing since Bordeaux.

Duncan had made it clear that he wanted a rapprochement, but Methos still wasn't sure how far. How much wounding could be healed? And exactly what role was Duncan looking for him to fill-- friend and confidante (another Fitz?) ... or something more.

Methos knew what he wanted, and sometimes he thought Mac wanted the same thing. Hints in his smile, casual touches, his desire to have Methos around. But still Methos was afraid to make the first move, afraid Mac didn't want the same thing, afraid of rejection again. He was reminded of a quote from Shakespeare, "Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt." Fear, oh yes, fear.

On their return to Seacouver Duncan had gone back to the loft and dojo, but only on a temporary basis. Too many ghosts, especially red haired ones. Somewhat surprisingly, he had found a buyer for the dojo, and best yet one who was amenable to his living in the loft apartment until his new quarters were ready.

For his latest career Duncan was taking on the position of real estate developer. He purchased a building that was located on the waterfront in Seacouver. In its first incarnation around the turn of the century the building had been a shirt making manufactory. It was six stories tall with floor to ceiling windows on two sides, and covered almost a half city block. Duncan was going to partially rehab and modernize it, turning the basement and first floor into indoor parking, and floors two through five into upscale condos. The top floor, though, was going to be his alone, along with a deck on the roof overlooking the harbor.

Methos gave some very broad hints that he wouldn't mind contributing to this latest MacLeod endeavor, but Mac studiously avoided all his hints. Despite their warmer relations, Methos felt that Duncan was being somewhat secretive about the whole thing. In fact, he was a bit miffed that Duncan hadn't consulted him when he had the architect draw up the plans. After all, he had been an architect 12, no wasn't it 13 times? And look at some of those aqueducts he had designed at the height of the Roman Empire -- almost as good today as the day he had supervised their construction. Since in every other way their friendship was going well, he decided not to press the point.

One night several weeks later he walked into Joe's earlier than usual, before the evening crowd came in. He could feel MacLeod, but he was nowhere in evidence. He must be back in the office with Joe. Spread out over a table were the blueprints for MacLeod's new building. Methos was very puzzled, however, when he took a look at the plans for Duncan's new abode. They surprisingly included two master bedrooms connected by a huge master bath, as well as another smaller bedroom, den and large practice room. The main living area of this new loft kept the same open design as the old one -- combining living, dining and kitchen areas. Access was by private elevator, with a spiral staircase leading from the main room to the roof deck. Altogether, it was at least three times as big as the dojo loft.

What really puzzled Methos though were the adjoining master bedrooms. He guessed MacLeod was building the second master bedroom for Amanda. Maybe Mac thought that if he gave Amanda her own space that they wouldn't drive each other crazy so quickly. Methos snorted to himself, he couldn't see Amanda wanting or needing her own bedroom. Her own closet or closets, now that was different.

Just then Mac came out of the back. He seemed very flustered to see Methos looking over the plans, which only irritated the eldest further. He felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

No, "Nice to see you," "How was your day?" or, most importantly, "What do you think of the blueprints Methos?"

"I see you've finally decided to add suitable accommodations for your guests." Methos suggested.

"Well, you know, you never know when you're going to need an extra bedá" MacLeod returned lamely.

Methos was dying to know who that second bedroom was for, but he'd be damned if he would ask, and Mac wasn't volunteering any more information.

In just nine months Duncan had managed to get his new home finished, though he would be living over a construction zone for a long time. Methos had expected Duncan to try and rope him into moving his things over from the dojo loft, but in fact the mysteriousness continued, and Duncan informed him that he did not want him to see the new loft until it was "done." He almost made a crack about what a non-event a new apartment was after you'd lived through 5000 years of new habitations, but he managed to restrain himself.

Five days had passed since MacLeod had moved in, and he still hadn't gotten an invite. Methos' rather substantial nose was beginning to get seriously out of joint, especially after he found out Joe had been there. But he finally got a call from MacLeod at the bookstore Saturday morning, asking him for dinner that evening. He was miffed enough that he almost told MacLeod that he had a prior engagement, but his curiosity got the better of him. So that evening he found himself ascending to the 6th floor in a state-of-the-art elevator, a bottle of wine grasped in his hand as a house warming present.

Duncan met him at the elevator, and Methos got his first look at the new loft. He had to admit the Highlander had outdone himself this time, and Methos shuddered when he mentally compared it to his own dumpy little apartment. This new loft combined the best of the barge and the old loft, and brought it into the 20th century with some of the latest technology.

There was a state of the art kitchen all done in light woods and beautiful granites that even included a wood-burning oven for baking bread and pizza.

There was a striking freestanding fireplace. There were two massive down filled couches with matching armchairs that just begged to be sprawled in. And, miracle of miracles, if his eyes didn't deceive him that was a flat screen TV clinging to one of the walls at a perfect vantage point from the couch. Though he couldn't see the speakers, his ears told him that the loft also included a state of the art sound system. Overall, the effect was similar to MacLeod's earlier residences, but warmer, and more in harmony with the current times.

"MacLeod, MacLeod, there may be hope for you yet. I do believe you are actually joining the 20th century. And even indulging in a creature comfort or two." Methos' teasing comments were softened by the warm smile glowing in his eyes.

MacLeod almost seemed embarrassed by the praise, and inordinately nervous. "Come see the rest." He said to Methos, and led him down the hall.

The hall ran the length of the long windowless wall of the loft, and the first door on the left led to the practice room. Unlike the more public dojo, MacLeod could openly display a large variety of swords and other weapons. There was plenty of room for sparring with them too.

"Gee MacLeod, with all this choice of weaponry, maybe you can finally beat me in a spar." Methos smirked.

Mac only continued to smile nervously. A door in the practice room led into a full bath which in turn led into what appeared to be a guest bedroom. The guest bedroom was the smallest room so far, but pleasantly light with a massive window. It was decorated in a feminine manner with floral chintzes and an antique dressing table. That put paid to a small hope Methos had harbored that Mac might have designed the guest bedroom for him. Clearly, this was not a room for him, at least not on anything but a very temporary basis. Though he did admit that the bed looked more comfortable than the couch he was usually stuck on.

He covered any hurt he was feeling quickly, and continued to make admiring noises. The next room on the tour was the den, which was located between the guestroom and the hall, the guestroom having its own branch entrance off the main hall. Because of its position the den had no windows, but a lot of thought had gone into the recessed lighting. The walls were covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves, many of them enclosed by glass doors. However, most of the shelves were still empty. There was a cozy sitting area with two club chairs separated by a table with a reading lamp. Dominating the room were a pair of Mission Oak partners desks, facing each other, but each flanked by modern computer stands also in oak. It was obvious that Mac had already started to use one of the desks, and had a computer set up behind it.

This room was even more puzzling than the guestroom in its own way, since it was clearly set up to be used by two people. While Methos' mouth continued to make complimentary noises, he wasn't sure how long he could keep some of the hurt from seeping into his eyes. He wanted to fill those shelves with his precious books, and could just see himself sitting in this room working with Mac in companionable silence....

The only thing keeping him from bolting right now was his burning desire to know who this room, and in fact the whole loft, had been designed for. Who was this special person in Duncan's life? While Amanda wasn't illiterate, he had a hard time envisioning her in this den.

The next stop on Duncan's tour was the bedroom at the end of the hall, skipping the entrance to the mysterious second bedroom. This room was obviously Duncan's, and contained many of the items he had had in the dojo loft, though it was almost as big as the old loft in its own right. As well as the massive bed, it also had the couch from the loft and shelves with many of Duncan's favorite things. Besides the hall entrance, there was a doorway that led to a huge walk in closet, and another leading to the bathroom.

Methos' mouth dropped in shock at the bath -- the only word for it was sybaritic. There was a glass enclosed shower area that would hold at least four people, and had five water jets including a waterfall. There was a Japanese soaking tub that had also been fitted with jacuzzi nozzles, and would hold as many people as the shower. There was a padded banquette which looked like it was designed to be used as a massage table. There were two sinks, and even heated towel racks. A huge skylight let in natural sunlight that nourished the plants tucked into nooks. And the colors were amazing, not a speck of white porcelain anywhere. Everything was done in blue gray slate and light woods. After 5000 years Methos was on the verge of being reduced to tears by a bathroom -- he wondered what MacLeod's reaction would be if he got down on his knees and begged him to let him live in his bathroom.

"MacLeod I can't believe this. What on earth has gotten into you to make you let go of all that good Scottish stoicism? The denial of the flesh and all that rot?" Methos demanded.

MacLeod stammered something inane about feeling like it was time to enjoy some of the pleasures that modern technology could afford.

The door at the other end of the amazing bathroom led to the other master bedroom. As a totally dejected Methos walked through the doorway he came to a dead stop. This was not a room meant for Amanda, this was a room meant for a man. The primary color was green, which brought out the luster in the antique mahogany furniture which decorated it. The room was dominated by a large sleigh bed, and there was the converted armoire from Duncan's loft with TV and bar. A new sound system could be seen in the armoire, as well as a mini-fridge. Methos was completely confused. He could not stay silent anymore, to hell with the consequences.

"Ok MacLeod, who is she? Who is this new light of your life that you've designed this love nest for?"

MacLeod's anxiety had been increasing geometrically with each room they had passed through. "Um, actually it's not a she..." he mumbled.

MacLeod took a deep breath and said, "Actually, I designed this room especially, but really the whole loft, hoping you would use it, that you would live here with me."

Methos was stunned. "You designed this for me?" he asked incredulously. Methos suddenly remembered how secretive Mac had been about the blueprints. "Now I understand why you didn't want me to see the plans ahead of time," he said quietly.

"I know you try and keep a low profile by living in places you can afford on your current salary. I thought this could be a chance for you to live in a bit more luxury for a change," Duncan continued.

Methos snorted. A bit more luxury indeed, he hadn't lived in this kind of luxury since ancient Greece. And they didn't have computers back then.

"It's been a difficult few years for both of us Methos. I thought we deserved a little pampering for a change. And I wanted to try and show you in some way that I appreciated how you stuck by me, and helped me. I haven't always been grateful at the time, but I know I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for you."

Clearly Duncan was showing him that he cared deeply for him, but it still didn't answer the question about what level Mac wanted the relationship on. Methos suddenly remembered the lines from Shakespeare he had been thinking of several months ago, the ones about our doubts causing us to lose what good we might win if we fail to attempt our desire. Methos decided not to let fear and doubt rule the day.

He walked over to Mac and looked into his eyes and saw nervousness there, but also caring and maybe even love. He placed his hands on either side of Duncan's face and gently pulled him close. Their lips met, and a tentative kiss quickly became passionate.

"Duncan, I think this is the most thoughtful and generous thing anyone has ever done for me, and I very much want to be able to stay here and share this home with you. But you need to be honest with me about what level of relationship you want us to have."

Mac still looked a bit dazed from the kiss. "Methos, I know I want us to be together, and sometimes I think that is all I want. To be some kind of soulmates," he said with a smile. "But when I think that's all I want, if I'm honest with myself I realize I am denying a sexual attraction that's very strong."

Methos leaned in and gave Duncan another passionate kiss, their tongues slowly entwining. This time Mac broke apart the kiss.

"It's not that I'm afraid of sex with you Methos, it certainly wouldn't be my first experience with another man, but what I'm really afraid of is losing you. Our whole history has been full of such intense highs and lows I'm afraid to bring the element of sex into our relationship. I'm afraid of losing you, us."

Methos stroked the hair curling behind Duncan's ear and smiled at him. "Well MacLeod, I think that we need to make a vow to each other that if this sexual element doesn't work out that we won't let it destroy our relationship. Do you think with our combined ages of about 5500 years we have the maturity to do that?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

Duncan's grin answered his. "I would certainly hope so," he replied, reaching to pull Methos into another kiss.

As they separated once more, Methos looked at MacLeod and said solemnly. "I, Methos, the oldest known of our kind, vow that I will not let anything, sexual or otherwise, intervene in the friendship and brotherhood I share with you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

Duncan gasped at the gravity with which Methos had spoken his vow. He took a deep breath and grasped Methos' arm in a warrior's grip, wrist to elbow. "I, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, vow to forever cherish and hold firm my bond of friendship and brotherhood with you, Methos, eldest of our race."

Methos slowly backed Duncan up to the beautiful sleigh bed. HIS bed, while he tried to simultaneously remove their annoying clothing. He had managed to remove both their shirts before the backs of Duncan's knees hit the bed, and he fell back on top of it.

Methos knelt in front of him and started to remove Duncan's shoes and socks, while Duncan refused to release him from his kiss. As Methos' hands went to the fastenings of his pants Duncan finally released him for a breath. Gasping, Methos quickly pulled of Duncan's pants and briefs, and then stretched out on top of him and started kissing Duncan's ears and neck.

Duncan growled and flipped Methos on his back. "Too many clothes," he said as he mirrored his soon to be lover's earlier actions.

Finally they were both naked and could luxuriate in the silky feel of skin on skin. Duncan slowly worked his way down Methos body, kissing and nipping as he went. He paused at areas of special delight -- behind Methos ear, the sensitive skin on the inside of the arm, the dusky nipples.

By this time Methos had lost the power of coherent speech, and was moaning inarticulately. Duncan finally reached Methos' cock. He gently ran his tongue around the head, and traced the vein from root to tip. Methos was about out of his mind at this point, but managed to articulate the word "Please." Duncan smiled and took him deep.

With all the emotion behind this meeting there was no way Methos was going to last long, and he came shouting after only a few minutes in the warm wet cavern of MacLeod's mouth. After cleaning his lover carefully with his tongue, MacLeod slid up and kissed Methos passionately.

Methos smiled as he caressed Duncan's body. "Your turn," he smiled at Duncan. "Anything you want."

Duncan looked into those mutable green-gold eyes and said with a blush, "I want to be inside you Methos. I want to be joined together"

Methos smiled back at him and said, "Assuming your preparations for this evening included the purchase of some lube, there is nothing I would like better. Hell, I'll even settle for some olive oil from OUR kitchen."

Duncan blushed more deeply, and reached into the nightstand drawer and produced the requested lube.

"Boy Scout," Methos snorted affectionately, as his lover started to rub the lube on his cock and into Methos. As Duncan's finger stroked his prostate, Methos could not control a gasp of pleasure. Soon Methos was ready, and he started to roll onto his stomach.

"No," Duncan said,"I want to see you come." So Methos raised his legs over Duncan's shoulders. When Duncan finally entered Methos it was heaven for both of them, but destined to be over more quickly then they wished.

Satiated, Methos lay curled in Duncan's arms, listening to his soft snores. As Methos looked around his beautiful bedroom he was sure that Duncan would insist on talking this new step in their relationship to death, but for now Methos had his answer. The world's oldest immortal had his first true home in centuries, and even more importantly than that, knew he was loved. With a grin on his face, he leaned over and pinched his lover to awaken him and start the first dinner in their new home.

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