A/N: I had You've Got a Friend stuck in my head the other day and Methos came to mind. I know it's probably not the first that remind anyone of Methos but I think rather he likes it or not he is a good one. Hence the title, not a song fic and one-shot.

You've Got a Friend:
By: LOSTrocker

"HEEEEEEYYYYYY MEEENNNNNTTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" Richie sang out as The Old Man entered Joe's. He spun around in his stool unaware
that wherehe sat had no wheels.

Methos ignored Richie as he always did, though it was hard to do especially
now since Richie Ryan was very very drunk. It was almost laughable, key word:
almost. He was worried as Richie greeted him because he came close to
revealing his real name. Thankfully, the bar was vacant besides the usual
suspects.

Joe laughed as he gave Methos his draft. "Getting old yet?" Joe asked him
referring to the Mentos joke that Richie like to pull over him.

Sadly, Methos was very close to Mentos and Richie discovered that on a night
very much like this one when he was drunk. The Old Man was hoping he would
forget but this was him he was talking about and when hope was concerned it
was never in his favor. "I might need another one of these," Methos told
Dawson as he took a long swig of his alcohol.

"I'm way ahead of you," Joe assured him with a smile and pulled out
another.

Methos returned his grin with his own. "You know me so well."

"As much as you come in here, I should." Joe reminded him.

"So, what caused this?" Methos asked glancing towards Richie.

"WWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Richie cried out as he took another
spin.

Joe shook his head. "What's her name broke it off with him," Richie
"dated" a lot of girls. Sometimes he got to them first before they could,
this time it was the other way around, and apparently Richie really liked this
one. Joe had never seen him so crushed before. Then again heart ache will kill you
every time. He knew from experience. Betsy suddenly came to mind.

Methos rolled his eyes. "When are you people ever going to learn?"

"Until we die trying," Dawson answered him with a smirk.

Methos gave him a one of those back off looks. Sure he was being a smart **
right now but did he seriously have to bring Alexa into the picture, but maybe
he wasn't… Perhaps it was the mere fact that he missed her so much it hurt
like hell and when someone brought the word dying into a conversation with him, he thought of her. He didn't mean to after all death was far from what Alexa had been
even though she was so quiet and soft spoken. She was the one who had taught him how to live.

"How many did he have?" Methos asked him changing the subject quickly
before he hurt Dawson.

"Got me," Dawson answered with a shrug. "I lost count five bottles
ago."

"Damn, Mac is so going to kill you." Methos said with laugh. "Well, not
if I get to you first." At the moment, the idea was tempting, but since he
actually liked Dawson he wavered. "I thought you had a limit Dawson."

"Yeah, to Mortals," Joe said in a whispered tone. "If he was like me
I'd stopped him a long time ago."

"Why didn't you?" Methos asked.

"I figured it wouldn't kill him." Joe teased.

"Joe as a Watcher you should know better…" Methos replied with a sigh.
"Just because we're Immortal doesn't mean we can't get wasted or
stoned."

Joe raised a questionable eye brow to his old friend. "Stoned?" he just
couldn't picture the guy who sat in front of him smoking a joint or much
worse while listening to something like AC/DC in a basement somewhere.

"The 70's was a good decade." Methos stated.

Joe couldn't help but laugh. Seeing Methos as a hippie with long hair,
a beard, a tie dye t-shirt wearing bell bottoms was one hell of a picture. He
wouldn't be able to get that out of his head for awhile, not that he really
wanted to anyway.

Dawson's laugh was cut short when the two heard a loud thud. They turned to
see that Richie had finally taking his fall. "Ow…" Richie stated. He
didn't pay too much attention to his pain. The floor soon became very
fascinating. "Hi Floor," he greeted as he started to rub it like it was a
pet. "Such a nice floor… and very clean too," Richie perked his head up
just enough time to give Joe a thumb's up for a job well done on taking care
of the place.

"Thanks Richie." Joe managed to say as his laughter caught up with him
again.

Thunk! Richie went down again but this time he was out for the count. A pond
of drool was slowly starting to form under his chin. "And he's outta
there!" Methos said like an umpire at a baseball game using thumb and all.

Joe looked at the clock. "I don't know where Mac is." He said. "He
was supposed to be here."

"Probably for the better," Methos made known as he finished his first
drink off. "I'm going to down that," he glanced at the second round of
draft beer that Dawson had so kindly got out for him. Then he glanced down to
the floor. "Then take care of that. Don't want to let the kid take one of
Mac's lectures. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Joe took a sip of his own drink before he agreed with him. Mac was a good guy
and he meant well but the lectures were a killer.

Methos quickly turned down his long neck, gave it to Joe to toss, and then
jumped off his stool to take care of Richie. He knelt down so he could get the
boy onto his shoulders. He was going to have to carry him out of here. No way
Richie would able to stand up after all he had.

"Do you need help?" Dawson asked. He wasn't sure how much he could
offer giving his condition but still Richie was just as much as a son as he
was to Mac. Besides, he was starting to worry about leaving the poor kid in
Methos' hands.

"I got it Joe," The Old Man assured as he hoisted Richie up.

Richie was still out.

"At least let me get the door," Joe beat him to the entrance before he
could say other wise.

Methos thanked him on the way out. He had to shift Richie's weight a little
bit so they both could be comfortable. "Someone needs to lay off the junk
food."

Joe smiled. It was so rare to see Methos like this, helping one of his own.
Mac was rubbing off on him. "What?" Methos asked catching The Watcher's
grin.

"Nothing," Dawson lied.

Methos rolled his eyes as he left. Joe and his sentimental ways were becoming
a real pain in the **.

"See you tomorrow?" Dawson called him.

"Same time, same place." Methos returned.

Joe closed the door behind them, turning off the open sign, and locking the
doors. As Joe cleaned up the place he couldn't help but sing: "You Got A
Friend" by James Taylor thinking of Methos, the last person that would ever
come to mind every step of the way.

END