Disclaimer - C'est ne mine pas.
Mac sighed, grinning. "There's more to life than beer, Methos."
"Who said so? I'll take his head," Methos replied calmly, finally placing the milk in the fridge.
DM/M fluffy musings. Toothy-minty references.
I blame my mother in part for this one. She bought me a new toothbrush. I was brushing my teeth one morning (with new toothbrush), glanced at myself in the mirror, and it just clicked. This is partly just an excuse for me to refine the Voices, to mess around with my two favourite HL characters, a new pairing (yay!) and to get the damned silly references out of my head.
And this just goes to show how low my self-control on finishing stories is. – grimace –
Methos Ex Machina.
Methos knew it was Macleod approaching, if only by the familiar ring of Presence that defined the younger Immortal. The other obvious sign was the clanking of the dojo elevator and his grinning face, half-obscured by scarf and turned red against the cold.
"Groceries!" he called out, gesturing to the twin paper bags he held.
"Beer? Saviour." Methos replied, leaping over the back of his seat, copy of 'War and Peace' discarded in an instant.
"Yes, beer," Duncan replied, moving the bags out of reach and taking a brief chaste kiss from the other Immortal's lips first. "Unpack first – then beer."
"Yes mother," the oldest Immortal replied petulantly, his eyes grinning as he quickly moved the groceries into the appropriate places.
"Now I hope you've been good, Methos," Macleod continued teasingly. "I've got you a present."
Methos' eyes lit up. "More beer!"
Mac sighed, grinning. "There's more to life than beer, Methos."
"Who said so? I'll take his head," Methos replied calmly, finally placing the milk in the fridge.
To his surprise, his present turned out to be, of all things –
"…A toothbrush?"
He turned over the plastic packaging, his face a mixture of confusion and surprise.
"Not just any toothbrush," Duncan replied. "An electronic toothbrush."
"An electronic toothbrush?" Methos asked incredulously, unpacking the item and staring at it.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I love it when your teeth are minty." Mac replied with a grin. Making a mental note to be minty more often, he shook his head.
"No – why electronic?"
"It's supposed to clean your teeth better."
"But my teeth are fine! Besides, I have enough trouble with electric razors," (all those blades near his throat) "so why do they put batteries in a toothbrush!"
Wonderingly, he pressed the little button on the side. He promptly dropped it as the head shook and vibrated. With a most undignified yell, the toothbrush hit the floor of the kitchen. He glared at Macleod, who still couldn't stop laughing.
"I am not using it," he said flatly.
"Oh come on Methos," Mac replied with another of his infamously charismatic grins. Methos had to work hard to counteract it. "It's only a toothbrush – get with the times!"
"I am 'with the times'," the old Immortal replied indignantly, hand automatically reaching for a new bottle of beer. "Do you see me wandering down the street in a toga? Asking for fried horse brains in a restaurant? Addressing everyone in Swahili?"
"It's only a toothbrush, Old Man – it's not the end of the world." He picked up the toothbrush and turned it off.
"I've had these teeth all my life Macleod; over five thousand years. I don't want to lose them all to an insane killer-toothbrush."
"Killer toothbrush?" Duncan's eyebrows rose. "Since when do you refer to inanimate objects as having homicidal tendencies?"
"Since now," Methos scowled, knowing exactly how pathetically childish he sounded and wishing he didn't give a damn.
Duncan rolled his eyes dramatically and disposed of the worn-out paper bags. He left the toothbrush on the side.
"I'm off to see Richie – he's doing a circuit at the edge of town," he said eventually, with a small fond grin for his student.
"I'm not invited?" Methos actually sounded hurt.
"You hate motor racing." Macleod protested. "Besides, after last time…"
"Yeah yeah yeah, I know – don't put your hand on a very hot engine." Methos grimaced in remembered pain. Now that was fun to explain, especially when it healed.
"See you later," he kissed the Old Man briefly, running his hand across the familiar face, and a moment later his Presence faded.
It was just him. Him and the toothbrush.
They stared at each other across the room.
With some effort, Methos finally grabbed his bottle and sat down once more with 'War and Peace' hoping finally, after so long, to get to the end of the very dull book.
The toothbrush niggled at the back of his mind.
He ignored it. Who needed the damn thing anyway? He'd get rid of it in a week or two – Macleod need never know.
It refused to go away.
For not the first time since he had met the Highlander, Methos the Stubborn capitulated. Grabbing the toothbrush with a growl, he went into the bathroom. Brushing away the littered remains of Duncan's extensive morning routine, he grabbed his toothpaste and poured the usual amount onto the strange bristles. With a rinse of cold water, he was ready – toothbrush poised and mirror glaring back at him.
It was just him against the toothbrush. The insane, killer-toothbrush, bane of all Immortals.
He pressed the button.
It vibrated warningly at him. He glared at it; the intense, well-practised glare of Death that had been the last sight of millions of innocents. The toothbrush was unaffected. That miffed him slightly.
Closing his eyes, he brought it up to his mouth, accidentally hitting his nose in the process.
The feeling was, strange to say the least. His teeth felt like they were vibrating in their sockets – like after a mild Quickening. But, that being said, it seemed to get the job done.
A couple of minutes later he spat out the paste, washed out his mouth, and the toothbrush, and left the offending item on the side. Then spent about five minutes admiring his fangs in the mirror. Hmmm…
When Duncan returned later, Methos leapt on him. After a quick kiss that was both pleasantly minty and passionately Methos, they pulled back – Duncan confused, Methos grinning.
"You know, I don't know what all the fuss was about Mac – it's only a toothbrush," he said innocently, baring his teeth in a grin.
Macleod rolled his eyes, then gave up, deciding that smug minty Methos was good any day. And minty-Methos smut ensued.