Disclaimer: I do not own Highlander or anything else ~sigh~ The
characters are only borrowed.
Methos scowled at his half-empty closet for several minutes before slamming the door shut and storming into the kitchen.
"Coffee," he muttered. The ancient immortal made himself a cup of instant coffee and sat down at his kitchen table. When he had finished his third cup of coffee (properly brewed while he drank the first two) he felt somewhat calmer, though much more energetic, and ready to deal with his problems. He got dressed and headed out.
Duncan MacLeod climbed slowly out of his car and headed toward his dojo. His plan was to have a nice hot shower and go to bed. It was only 11am but he'd already beheaded two immortals. The second one had somehow turned into a snaowball fight halfway through. Duncan had finally managed to breach the enemy's fort and finished him. The quickening, however, had the unfortunate effect of melting the snow and he'd been lying in the freezing mud when he'd finished.
As soon as he stepped into the dojo, a very strong immortal tingle welled up in the base of his skull. Groaning, Duncan pulled out his sword again and climbed the stairs slowly, desperately hoping it was only Amanda or Richie.
When he finally reached the second floor and looked into his kitchen, he saw a tall, lean, sweatered figure poking through his fridge.
"I thought you were in Paris," Duncan commented as he returned his sword to THE PLACE!
"Aha!" Methos declared triumphantly as he emerged from teh fridge. He stood and downed half the beer he had found. He smiled in satisfaction for a moment before turning to the highlander. "I got back into Seacouver yesterday." He finished his beer and grabbed another one.
"So did you want something or did you just come to drink my beer?" Duncan asked as he slowly took off his coat. Being immortal may have healed all his injuries, but it didn't prevent him from being exhausted.
"If al I wanted was beer I would have gone to see Joe," Methos answered. "He has better stuff."
"Can whatever it is wait? I really need a shower and a nap."
"Sure," Methos agreed, "just give me your credit card and I'm gone."
Duncan froze an inch from putting his coat down. "You want me to give you MY credit card?" he demanded incredulously.
Methos shrugged. "I'll accept cash as well."
Duncan sputtered for a moment, staring at his friend. "Why?" he finally managed.
"Sweaters," Methos responded calmly.
"Buy them yourself!"
Methos shook his head. "Since your the reason my closet is empty, you get to refill it."
Duncan blinked at his friend for several minutes trying to figure that out, but he couldn't make it compute. "How is it my fault you don't have any clothes?"
'For 100s of years I managed to avoid other immortals almost entirely. But the moment I became friends with you there were immortals everywhere and I'm losing sweaters in all sorts of fights. Blood stains, rips, tears, holes, you name it, it's happened to my sweaters. All because of you." Before Duncan could react to this logic, Methos had grabbed his wallet from the pocket of the jacket he still hadn't put down and disappeared with a cheerful wave.
Methos scowled at his half-empty closet for several minutes before slamming the door shut and storming into the kitchen.
"Coffee," he muttered. The ancient immortal made himself a cup of instant coffee and sat down at his kitchen table. When he had finished his third cup of coffee (properly brewed while he drank the first two) he felt somewhat calmer, though much more energetic, and ready to deal with his problems. He got dressed and headed out.
Duncan MacLeod climbed slowly out of his car and headed toward his dojo. His plan was to have a nice hot shower and go to bed. It was only 11am but he'd already beheaded two immortals. The second one had somehow turned into a snaowball fight halfway through. Duncan had finally managed to breach the enemy's fort and finished him. The quickening, however, had the unfortunate effect of melting the snow and he'd been lying in the freezing mud when he'd finished.
As soon as he stepped into the dojo, a very strong immortal tingle welled up in the base of his skull. Groaning, Duncan pulled out his sword again and climbed the stairs slowly, desperately hoping it was only Amanda or Richie.
When he finally reached the second floor and looked into his kitchen, he saw a tall, lean, sweatered figure poking through his fridge.
"I thought you were in Paris," Duncan commented as he returned his sword to THE PLACE!
"Aha!" Methos declared triumphantly as he emerged from teh fridge. He stood and downed half the beer he had found. He smiled in satisfaction for a moment before turning to the highlander. "I got back into Seacouver yesterday." He finished his beer and grabbed another one.
"So did you want something or did you just come to drink my beer?" Duncan asked as he slowly took off his coat. Being immortal may have healed all his injuries, but it didn't prevent him from being exhausted.
"If al I wanted was beer I would have gone to see Joe," Methos answered. "He has better stuff."
"Can whatever it is wait? I really need a shower and a nap."
"Sure," Methos agreed, "just give me your credit card and I'm gone."
Duncan froze an inch from putting his coat down. "You want me to give you MY credit card?" he demanded incredulously.
Methos shrugged. "I'll accept cash as well."
Duncan sputtered for a moment, staring at his friend. "Why?" he finally managed.
"Sweaters," Methos responded calmly.
"Buy them yourself!"
Methos shook his head. "Since your the reason my closet is empty, you get to refill it."
Duncan blinked at his friend for several minutes trying to figure that out, but he couldn't make it compute. "How is it my fault you don't have any clothes?"
'For 100s of years I managed to avoid other immortals almost entirely. But the moment I became friends with you there were immortals everywhere and I'm losing sweaters in all sorts of fights. Blood stains, rips, tears, holes, you name it, it's happened to my sweaters. All because of you." Before Duncan could react to this logic, Methos had grabbed his wallet from the pocket of the jacket he still hadn't put down and disappeared with a cheerful wave.