Richie couldn't sleep. Big surprise. He and Methos had spent the day working out, running, and sparring, but it hadn't helped the storm brewing inside. Methos had been calm throughout, but had not tried to calm Richie. The ancient man had tried to give him outlets for his anger, listened to him rant, and opened his arms to hold Richie, not minding when Richie clung to him, only stroked his back.
Like now as Richie lay curled on his side, leaning against Methos's chest as the other man leaned against the arm of the couch. He could hear the rhythm of Methos's ancient heart beneath his ear, felt Methos's warmth and the soft pressure of Methos's cheek against the top of his head, Methos's smell was all around him, but still Richie's thoughts raced.
He was reasonably sure that Mac would be happy to see him. But would it be awkward? What would either of them say…Hey Rich, sorry I tried to kill you again. Oh that's all right, Mac, no big deal.
Richie was fairly certain that he snorted out loud rather than in his head but Methos's hands never stopped their caress. What did he feel? He was angry, duh, hurt, betrayed…afraid. Richie was afraid that Mac didn't love him, didn't want him, never had.
During the Ahriman fiasco, Richie had understood that to stand by Mac meant to be in danger. He accepted that risk and would again. What he really wanted was Mac to acknowledge him, tell him that he meant something to the older immortal.
Speaking of declaring one's feelings, Richie lifted his head, sat up and turned to look Methos in the eyes.
"Thank you."
"Rich, you don't have to thank me." But Methos's smile belied the words. The words still meant something.
"I know but I wanted to tell you how much it means to me. You don't make me feel stupid for needing help." Richie lifted his hand to stroke the plane of Methos's cheek. "Because I'm not alone. You let me hold you through your nightmares, share your fears…it helps."
The look on Methos's face was like the sun breaking through clouds and the answering emotions flooding through Richie threatened to drown him.
Richie's voice choked embarrassingly, but he didn't feel embarrassed. "You're beautiful, you know…everything, everything about you." Richie couldn't continue, could only hope that Methos understood what he meant, that he wasn't just talking about his body. Oh, Methos's body was gorgeous, his porcelain skin, his flat-planed, clearly seen muscles, his eyes, lips. Richie almost laughed, he'd never really looked at men as beautiful before but Methos was. But Methos was also beautiful on the inside as cliché as it sounded. All of Methos, the good and bad, his courage and his fears, strengths and weaknesses.