Author's Note: I'll try not to bore you with a long author's note. Happy New Year! (by the way) If you're interested, I've done some slight re-writes of chapter 3 and 7, because I've become aware of some obvious discrepancies... Here's some fluff. Brace yourselves, though! Soon enough the faeces are going to hit the fan.

After dinner had been eaten and two bottles of red wine had been emptied, everyone was a bit more relaxed. They were sitting around the kitchen table talking. It was getting late. Amanda had yawned several time and was probably about ready to retire, so Liz chose to address the topic of sleeping arrangements. After all with an apartment that was momentarily housing three sword-wielding individuals, it was better to know were each of them could be found during the night. Surprise beheadings by night were simply not an option and were to be avoided at all costs.

So Liz got up from her chair and announced somewhat bluntly what was going to happen next. "Alright, I'm going to fix you the couch, Methos."

Methos' face fell.

Amanda merely raised an eyebrow at her friend's comment and covered up her amused laughter with a cough that was quite brilliantly timed from a strategic point of view. "And he gets the couch... Brutal!" she shot Methos a mocking look. "Well, I'm off to bed then," she smiled. "You'll have to figure that one out by yourselves. By the way, I don't care being woken up by the sounds of you fornicating in the middle of the night. So behave yourself, kiddies."

Before either of them could reply anything, mostly it was because they were both standing there with their mouths hanging open, she had gotten up from her chair and left the room, which left remaining two occupants of the room with the sink full of dishes and an uncomfortable issue to approach. The proverbial elephant in the room.

"I assume, there is a guest room."

"Yes, which Amanda is currently occupying," she replied. "Sorry."

"Damn!" he muttered under his breath.

"I'll be off to get the blankets and stuff," she announced seconds later, already half-way out of the room. She was glad to get out of the room, because it meant she was finally able to remove herself from temptation. Being alone with him was challenging. Of course, there was their agreement to take things slow. But any slower (they were moving at a glacial speed really) and they'd be moving backwards. Besides, she had never been a patient woman, so she was only halfway through the living-room when her feet stopped. She turned around and entered the kitchen again. She found him standing in front of the sink looking at it pensively.

"What are you doing? Trying to hypnotise the dishes?" she asked, ripping him out of his reverie.

"No, actually contemplating whether I should do them or not," he told her with a smirk. He regarded her more closely.

She was leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest. Now that she had made up her mind, her posture was more relaxed than it had been all day. Her mind supplied her with a comment that would twist his remark about doing the dishes into something deliciously naughty (Why don't you do me instead?). She didn't make it and was proud of herself.

"So why don't you?" she said instead.

"Too lazy," he shrugged his shoulders.

She smiled at his comment as she walked closer to him. Her fingers was grazing the top of the kitchen table that was the only obstacle still physically separating them. "I've been wondering..." she started as she was rounding the table slowly but deliberately.

"About what? About me and domesticity?"

She laughed. "No. About you and me and taking it slow."

"What about it?"

"How slow is slow exactly?" She was now standing in front of him.

"Depends," he said enigmatically, regarding her curiously.

"If I took off my T-shirt now, would that be too fast or too slow?" Her lips curved into a seductive smile, that made her white teeth flash at him briefly. The way she regarded him now had something predator like to it. Her fingers were already touching the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it up to her belly, revealing the waistband of her grey track pants and a hint of naked skin. Track pants had never looked sexier to him.

"Are you expecting me to behave gentlemanly now?" he asked interestedly. "It's not going to happen because I was around long before gentlemen were invented."

"Which is a good thing in my book," she reassured him, slowly taking off her T-shirt. His eyes followed the movement of her hands that tugged the T-shirt over her head. They travelled up from her navel, over her pale skin, then rested for a moment on her black lace bra and the tiny freckle that was positioned directly between her breast, before they finally met her eyes again. She threw the T-shirt at him. He caught it in mid air. Good reflexes. Even after drinking a couple of glasses of wine. Not bad.

"What about the pants?" he asked with a teasing smirk. "They don't go with the rest of the ensemble."

"Cheeky," she smiled. "Why don't you come over here and help me out of them?"

Before she could say anything else, he had her backed up against the kitchen table, his lips first on her mouth, then on her neck. She leaned back, allowing him better access to the sensitive skin on her neck and let out a sigh as his teeth grazed her skin. Behind her an empty glass was tipped over and landed on the table with a soft 'bling'.

The sound made them momentarily come to their senses. They both assumed a more up-right position again. He leaned his forehead against hers. His breathing somewhat accelerated, while her breath was also leaving her mouth in short intervals.

"I have the feeling that we're going to have a lot of fun, love," Liz grinned. Her hands that were on the small of his back travelled a bit lower. She hooked her index fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him closer against her. Her grin broadened."Yes. Definitely a lot of fun."

His eyes, by now a bit unfocused and with a wild expression to them, bore into her. "Keep this up and we're going to end up on the kitchen table. Amanda's just going to love that."

"How very caveman!" she remarked arching a delicate eyebrow at him.

"Do you want us to play or do you want this to be serious?" he asked her somewhat sternly. His eyes were still on her. There was no escape. But she didn't want to escape. She wanted this.

"What's serious? I think I've never had serious before," she asked mockingly as she let her fingers trace up and down the front of his sweater.

He sighed deeply and shook his head, not able to express his profound frustration with her in any other way. It momentarily even managed to block out the desire he felt. Unaware of how he felt, she just took his reaction in stride and smiled smugly as if it was nothing. Apparently his words and the meaning behind them hadn't managed to reach her yet, so in order to bring his point across, his hands moved to encompass her face and direct her gaze at him.

"Listen to me," his voice had an imploring quality to it, "do you want this to be just sex or do you want this to be something more?"

Her eyes shone brightly in the dimly light kitchen. They had a particularly intense azure colour now. But what mesmerized him more than their colour was the way they were darting over his face, left and right, left and right, until they finally resigned themselves to meeting his gaze. The expression on her face could best be described as awe-struck. Her lips were slightly parted and red from being kissed so thoroughly. She gulped slowly.

"I'm afraid I have forgotten how something more works," she said finally, her voice lacking the brash confidence it had so openly displayed before.

The skin around his eyes wrinkled ever so slightly as he smiled at her. "I can remind you," he suggested softly.

"You'll have to," she confessed and turned her head to kiss the inside of his palm. Her lips were soft against his skin and made it prickle. It was a display of affection, completely devoid of any sexual implications. Something he wasn't used to from her. Maybe he had managed to get his point across.

"I'm not one of your former customers. This is not about pleasing me," he clarified in a low tone of voice as he moved closer to her and kissed her right cheek. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. She laughed softly. "This is about the both of us," he leaned in to kiss her left cheek. It turned out a somewhat sloppy kiss as he gently rubbed his cheek against hers when he pulled back to look at her affectionately."Try to be yourself. Try to relax. Don't think too much. Let it go."

She smiled at him. "Be myself?"

He nodded.

"You're making this very personal," she thought out loud. Her voice held none of its usual teasing undertones.

He laughed softly. He didn't do it to mock her or because he thought her remark to be ridiculous. In fact it had a certain endearing innocence to it which was odd, because innocence and her usually didn't go well together. No, in fact his laughter was a pleasant sound and a completely genuine response to what she had said. It got under her skin and made goosebumps run up and down her arms. "Good, it's supposed to be. If this isn't personal then what else is?"

"Does it also involve killing the mood?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Have I now?" he asked softly and approached her again. She was sitting at the edge of the table now and he placed both of his hands on her knees to slowly part them. The gaze in his eyes implied that his gesture was anything other than innocent, in fact it made the warm feeling of arousal flood her body. He stepped in between her legs. His hands slid over her skin to encircle her midriff and came to rest upon the small of her back. She sucked in her breath with a pleasant shudder. The soft material of his sweater pressed against her skin and tickled it ever so slightly. His lips lowered to her neck. They opened slowly and she felt hot wetness and teeth as he caressed the sensitive flesh there. She concentrated purely on the sensation and allowed her mind to switch off momentarily that only wanted to do silly and useless things like judging his kissing technique or guessing where he would go next anyway. She was unaware that she had pulled him closer to her, that her fingers were racking through his hair, that she was here and there letting out enticing little sounds of pleasure.

This was quickly turning into something a little bit too x-rated for the kitchen table. His lips broke contact with her skin. "Where's your room?" he asked. He had to repeat the question a second time before she came out of her daze. Her eyes were unfocused for a moment then they settled on him, full of intent and purpose.

Instead of telling him, she took his hand and hopped down the table. After taking a somewhat uncertain first step, kissing him had made her light-headed, she practically dragged him off to her room. It wasn't smooth, but he had told her to be herself. Without her moves she wasn't smooth. She was just her.

She closed the door behind them nervously and turned around to face him. He was standing there in front of the bed, her bed, his hair slightly disheveled, waiting for her to make the next move.

"Take off your sweater," she told him softly. Her voice wasn't commanding. The exclamation mark at the end of the sentence was entirely missing. It was closer to a full-stop or a question mark really.

He did. Her eyes wandered slowly over his lean and muscular upper body. She wanted to touch him and so she did. She let her fingers glide down his shoulders, down his arms. He finally grasped her hands and pulled her closer. The intensity of the sensation of feeling his skin against hers for the first time surprised her. Nudity had never been a big deal to her before. But that was maybe because she hadn't allowed herself to see sex as something other than a means to an end. It had always been more a calculated move, the ultimate sealing of a deal than something emotional. Now that she allowed herself to feel, she could feel quite a lot: his body heat, every intake of breath and every exhale. She imagined if she put enough of an effort into it she could even feel his heart beating.

Her thoughts were whisked away for a while when he pressed another kiss to her lips. She lost herself in him, in the feeling of his mouth on hers, until the back of her legs hit the bed. They broke the kiss and her eyes were looking up at him questioning, almost timidly. He smiled at her, then caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, before he laid her down on the bed slowly and gently, without a hurry. For a moment they were just lying there, him on top of her and looked each other in the eyes.

It was quite clear where this was heading. Not that there had been any doubt about that from the start. For the first time in a very long time, however, she started to worry about things she was usually never nervous about. Should she incline her head more to the right when he kissed her? Was that position uncomfortable to him? Too much tongue? Too little? Well, it was small things like that, but also the way to go about this in general... This was profoundly different from anything else she had experienced before, she realised. It was because she cared and she didn't have to act a part. She didn't have to seduce him. For some inexplicable reason he just wanted her. Her, of all people.

The bedside table lamp was on, so she could see his face rather well. There was an unspoken question in his eyes. "You make me nervous," she admitted softly.

"Is that good or bad?" he asked back, his voice equally low.

She took his hand and positioned it above her heart. It didn't matter to her that he was cupping her breast in the process, all she wanted him to feel her heart beating. Maybe feeling the physical evidence of her nervousness would make him realise how serious she was about this. "It's probably a good sign," she smiled at him. "I haven't been that nervous about anything in a very long time."

"Good," he repeated. His eyes were directed at her chest for a moment longer, then they snapped up to meet hers again as if he was asking for her permission. He saw her smile at him and took that as a 'yes', as an encouragement to continue. So he slowly bent down and replaced his hand resting above her heart with his lips. She shivered with anticipation and when finally his mouth connected with her skin, let out a sigh and arched up against him. His free hand deftly slipped one of the straps of her bra over her shoulder, while she was distracted by the feeling of his mouth and tongue on her skin.

"Aren't you going to let me do anything?" she sighed as his mouth slowly traveled over the valley of her breasts further up to her neck. Her fingers were running through his hair, sometimes tugging at it a little too insistently when he came across a particularly sensitive spot like now for example. He chuckled softly.

"Are you complaining?" His mouth lowered on her skin again right after the question, sort of like a punctuation of his previously uttered words.

"No," her breath hitched in her throat after that short word. Her left leg twisted around his hips almost automatically and urged him closer. She was beginning to hate whoever had invented trousers. They were really a bother by this point. "Not complaining..." It was getting more and more difficult to talk. He bit her playfully. She let out a soft moan. Her leg wrapped around his hips more tightly. "So not complaining! But maybe you want me to something else than to lie on my back."

"Later," he said simply, his voice rougher than usual. Quite abruptly the sensation of his warm upper body against hers was gone. She felt his hands tugging at the waistband of her trousers shortly after. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she enthusiastically complied by lifting her hips, allowing him to slowly take off that offending article of clothing.

As he started kissing her thighs in a line parallel to the seam of her black slip, little sighs escaped her mouth. One for each time his lips connected with her skin. She was both anxious and excited he would move in for the kill now, but he didn't. He was just toying with her. Such a tease. Such a bloody tease. She actually said it out loud which made him chuckle.

"Admit it! You just love that about me." His dark eyes wear dancing with mirth.

"Maybe, but why don't you give yourself a break and see how much of a tease I can be...," she suggested, pulling him closer. "It's got to be exhausting to always be this in control. Why don't you let me unwind you a bit." Her teasing voice was right next to his ear and when she pulled back she saw an enticing little smirk on his face.

She flipped him over and he allowed it to happen. Straddling him, it became clear to her that he was by no means unaffected by her, in fact she believed that wearing those jeans must have become rather tedious to him by now. She placed her hands on his jeans right above his hipbones. The fabric felt warm under her hands. She slowly moved them upwards. Her fingertips barely ghosted over his skin as she caressed his sides. As she let them travel further up, she had to shift her weight and lean forward. Both her palms came to rest on his chest. Her hair fell in her face and she brushed it away with a great deal of annoyance, but to no avail. He reached up and pulled her hair out of her face, slowly, tenderly. She smiled and leaned down to kiss him as a thanks. She pulled back eventually, feeling slightly out of breath. Supporting herself on her left hand, she let her right index finger traced down his sternum. Actually it was more her nail than her fingertip. He let out a soft sound. Not yet a moan. More a sharp intake of breath. It did funny things to her body. Made it all tingly. She wanted to hear it again. Wanted to turn it into a proper moan. So she replaced her fingers with her lips and repeated the process. There it was again this sound, but this time it was an actual moan. It did funny things to her. Rendered her incapable of clear thought and let her act purely on instinct.

She crushed her lips to his passionately and started unbuttoning his fly. He's jeans were shortly after dropped to the floor and soon the remaining garments followed.

With both of them naked, this was suddenly an entirely different game. It made her feel shy again. This was really going to happen. No more going back, not that she wanted to. It would have been stupid. She had been waiting for this ever since Paris. Maybe, if she was really honest, ever since she first laid eyes on him.

His face was hovering over her, his hands left and right of her shoulders. Her heart was bounding inside her chest anxiously, but also cheerfully. "Come here!" She cupped his cheek as she softly said those words. He kissed her and granted her her wish.

It was the middle of the night. Liz was lying on his shoulder, sated, happy, actually completely blissed out. They hadn't spoken for a long time. But she knew he was still awake. His fingers were stroking her hair. Had she been a cat, she would have purred because it was such a pleasant sensation.

She turned her head. "Hey," she said softly. Their eyes met.

"Hey." He laid his arms a little more tightly around her now, almost possessively.

The words she meant to say where on the tip of her tongue. She hesitated for a second. The bedside lamp bathed his features in a soft orange light. He looked much younger than he usually did. Almost boyish.

"Thank you." She had to smile. A smile that was honest and actually reached her eyes. "Thank you, you brilliant, sarcastic, handsome, amazing man." And with that she tenderly kissed the tip of his nose.

"What for?" his fingers that were stroking her hair stilled. He looked at her in astonishment. He was used to a lot of things from her. A sentimentality like that was certainly not among them. But it wasn't an unpleasant surprise. It just came somewhat unexpected. As did her gesture. The kiss on the nose.

"For insisting on taking it slow." Her words were like a sigh. One of relief. "Possibly the best thing anyone's ever suggested to me. It's that much better like this."

"You're welcome, I guess." There was a brief pause. For once she could read his thoughts just by looking at his face. His expression was not guarded like it usual was. He was naked. In both the literal and the figurative sense, but he was still essentially him. So the inevitable question followed. "Better? In what sense?" Why did he always have to be so inquisitive? Even now.

"With feelings," she finally clarified. Now that she was lying on her side, her head propped up on her hand, she was able to regard him more closely.

"Aha," he smiled a crooked smile. She loved it when he did that. It made him look more mischievous. And she did enjoy that streak of his personally. More than she cared to admit. "What kind of feelings?" Again he didn't miss a beat, though he seemed just as relaxed as her, his limps stretched out languidly.

"Oh, you know..." Of course, he didn't, but she wasn't quite sure whether he had it in her to tell him. Not now anyway. She wasn't like she had been throwing around those 'I love you's in the last couple of years. More like stored them away in a vault and not used them. It would take her some time to get used to the idea of saying those words.

"No, but please do tell..." Right. She should have seen that one coming. He was taking immense pleasure in seeing her squirm like that judging by the amused sparkle in his eyes.

"I...," she stopped, then let out a frustrated huff. "I..." one more try and she was going to get it out. He opened his mouth, about to say something and she just held out her finger admonishingly. "Shut up, please," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She could practically feel him grinning, though her eyes were shut right now, closed tightly in concentration. She opened them abruptly again to check whether her suspicion was true and also because she preferred looking him in the eyes when she said important things like her first sincere 'I love you' in well over 50 years... maybe ever.

"I...," she started again and was brusquely interrupted by a row of loud and insistent knocks on the door. Liz let out a muffled scream of frustration. Muffled because her teeth were clenched together. She was going to kill whoever was on the other side of the door. Whoever was a bit imprecise, given the fact that there was currently only one other person occupying the apartment and she had a rather clear idea who that certain some was that was currently rapping at her bedroom door. She would have to kill Amanda. Slowly and painfully.

She got out of bed and started walking towards the door completely stark naked. Like she had once mentioned, she didn't have a problem with being naked in front of other people. Maybe it would teach Amanda a lesson.

Soft laughter came from the general direction of the bed behind her. She threw Methos a death glare over her shoulder. "What's so funny?"

"I've never seen a naked woman pull of angry that convincingly. Maybe Queen Boudicca back in the day... But you've surely got the act down perfectly."

They were interrupted again. The rapping at the door had become more insistent and was now paired with Amanda's voice asking to be let in. Liz let out a groan. Did she really have to come in? It sounded urgent. There was distress in Amanda's voice.

Well, under those circumstances she probably should cover herself up. She put on her underwear and picked up Methos' sweater unable to find some decent clothing at such short notice. She quickly pulled it down over her head. It was long enough to cover all the important parts, so she was halfway presentable. With her hand on the door handle she threw one last glance in Methos' direction. He had put on his jeans in the meantime.

"Shirtless in front of Amanda?" he raised an eyebrow. "I think not. Give me back my sweater."

"You wish!" she hissed at him and opened the door. Amanda practically tumbled in. With a quick look between Methos who was leaning casually against the headboard of a bed with rather crumpled sheets and Liz who was only clad in a sweater, the very same one Methos had been wearing tonight, she was able to assess the situation quite quickly and accurately.

"Sorry, to interrupt whatever distasteful and abominable things you've been doing to each other, but we've got a bit of a situation on our hands." It was clear by the way she reacted, with her nose wrinkled in disgust, that she didn't approve of their 'sleeping arrangements'. "Really, your taste in man has extremely deteriorated over the years, darling!" Amanda patted her friend on the shoulder consolingly as if to say "there, there".

Liz shrugged off her hand and crossed her arms over her chest. "The only situation we've got on our hands currently, is that you've just barged into my bedroom in the middle of the night at the worst possible time! Your sense of timing is clearly lacking!" She was still angry. If anyone still needed proof for that it became quite clear by the way she slammed the door shut behind Amanda with a violent shove. It made the other woman jump ever so slightly, although other than that she seemed unfazed by her friend's anger.

"Well, excuse me Little Miss Righteous Anger! I was just lying in my bed, desperate to drown out the moaning from across the hall by watching some late night TV when the news came on..."

"Mmmhmmm and how exactly is that relevant is to the current situation?"

"It is relevant, because they've talked about the art theft at the Tate from a couple of days back. They have a new lead. A good one." At least Amanda had the good sense to now look properly ashamed of herself.

Liz's eyes grew larger and larger in realisation. "Amanda... no! You didn't!"

"Oh, yes, she did," Methos supplied from the background, his voice full of mockery.

"Not on purpose..." Amanda tried to justify herself.

"How can you accidentally steal something? How, Amanda?"

The other woman just shrugged, looking down at the floor almost ashamedly. But Liz wasn't fooled by her act. After all most things about Amanda - apart from the relationships she valued and her soft side she kept carefully hidden from anyone - were just an act. Taking about relationships Amanda valued, hadn't she stayed here in London to help her out? She had. That realisation made it impossible for Liz to stay cross with her any longer.

"All right, you big klepto," she laid her arm around her friends shoulder in a gesture of reassurance, "what have you done this time?"

Amanda smiled. "Nothing too bad, I promise. Once I'll have left the country, people will eventually forget about it in...oh, well," she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, "five years or so..."

"Five years?" Liz echoed incredulously.

"Sure, half a decade is practically no time," Methos drawled sarcastically. "Any major European cities left where you can safely show your face or do you have to limit yourself to the States nowadays?" It was clear by the way Methos was smiling that he was enjoying himself far too much.

Liz tried herself at throwing a death glare in his direction, but didn't succeed. He did look kind of nice with his shirt off. Amanda, on the other hand, managed to execute the death glare she directed at him quite flawlessly.

"So you have to leave now?" Liz asked worriedly.

"Yes, unfortunately." Amanda looked between her friend and Methos. "Are you going to be alright?"

Liz turned around to look at Methos questioningly. He nodded at her slowly.

"Don't worry about us," she told her friend.

Amanda was gone an hour later. Apparently she did have a lot of practise packing and unpacking her suitcase in a relatively short amount of time, because during that hour she was also able to book a flight over her cellphone and call a cab. Just as soon as Liz had closed the door behind her, that goodbye hug and Amanda's final reassuring words that everything would turn out okay still in fresh memory, she turned around to face Methos.

He was now fully dressed again, which was sort of regrettable at least from her perspective. But then again she had opted for more clothes as well and was now wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black tank top.

"Off to bed," she said. It was unclear whether she was taking about herself or the both of them. And the question of whether they would be heading to separate sleeping places or actually to one and the same bed, was yet to be answered.

He checked his watch. "It's five in the morning," he announced with a great deal of annoyance and a yawn.

"So what's that? No 'yes' or 'no'? You've got to stop being enigmatic at some point, darling. Especially when I'm tired."

"I wasn't aware it was a question. And where's the fun in always giving those boring straightforward answers anyway?" he asked with a devilish grin on his face.

"I'm not in the mood for clever conversations." She stifled a yawn as well. "I'm going back to bed," Liz added somewhat grumpily. "If the police come looking for Amanda, be a love and tell them to shove off, will you?"

"I don't think I will. I'm coming with you," he said.

"Are you now?" she shot him a sceptical glance from the side. "What makes you so sure I'll let you sleep in my bed? Judging by the look of that nose you probably snore."

"Hey!" he protested weakly and tweaked her in the side.

"Or maybe you're a blanket hogger. Or worse yet a snuggler..., "she continued unflinchingly after she had swatted his hand away.

"Would that be so bad?" He reached out for her again. This time without the intention of teasing her which made her more favourable towards his touch. He laid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

She gave him a long appraising look, but her mask of coolness crumbled quickly. She couldn't help but smile sweetly at him. "I'm tempted to say 'no'."

He nuzzled her cheek softly. The beginnings of a stubble tickled her skin. She let out a long content sigh.

"Only tempted?" he whispered in her ear. "Come on, have a heart."

She was about to answer, but they were rudely interrupted by one sharp ring of the doorbell which was followed by a row of other brief staccato rings.

Liz sighed. "Let me guess. It's the coppers." She stepped out of his embrace, looking thoroughly annoyed. "There go fifty years of flying under their radar... Thanks, Amanda! Great bloody job, you did there."

Surprisingly Methos wasn't as irritated about the interruption as she was. He was just standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and watching her with a smile on his face.

"What?" she asked irritatedly.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just curious to see how you'll manage to weasel yourself out of this one..."

"Sadist!" Liz hissed at him, but there was an amused twinkle in her eyes. He was lucky enough to catch it before she hurried away towards the front door and left him standing there in middle of the living-room.

He picked up some random book from the coffee table and let himself slump down on the couch. Decisive Moments in History it read. But he didn't have any time to actually open the book and have a look at the first couple of pages. Liz hadn't closed the door to the corridor properly, probably intentionally. It was open, but just by a crack. Enough to hear the voices from the corridor floating in.

"Morning, ma'am," a deep male voice said. "PCs Shipton and Sheridan. Sorry for intruding at this untimely hour...," he could hear the speaker was being sidetracked from whatever he was going to say, because he abruptly ended the sentence right in the middle and only continued speaking after a short pause. "But fortunately it's not like we've ripped you out of your sleep, judging by the state of your dress."

Observant PCs. So they had noticed that she was fully dressed. Hopefully she would be able to come up with a convincing lie that would explain the reason why she wasn't puttering around in her jammies at 5 in the morning. He put down the book and scooted closer to the edge of his seat.

"Yeah. What can I do for you, PCs Shipton and Sheridan?" Liz was playing it cool, not paying any heed to the unspoken question that had been clearly audible in the policeman's statement.

"You can answer two questions for us, ma'am," this time the speaker was female and probably not older than forty judging by the sound of her voice, "The first one being, why are you fully clothed and the second one: Have you seen this woman?" Judging by the use of the demonstrative 'this', it was extremely likely that some mugshot or a police sketch was currently being held under Liz's nose.

"If you must know, I've just had a row with my boyfriend. And I've never seen this woman in all my life. Who is she anyway?" Liz sounded irritated and defiant, probably because she wanted to sell them the argument-with-boyfriend-story. He wasn't so sure that would work out too well for her.

"We've just talked to your neighbour, Mr Weatherspoone. He says, you live alone, ma'am," the female voice gave to think.

Liz laughed. He had to give her credit for her acting abilities. To actually fake laughter credibly was quite a feat. "Although Mr Weatherspoone tries his best, he doesn't know everything about me."

Apparently the two cops were a tough audience. "Still one can't help wondering..."

"Darling!" he suddenly heard her call out. "Will you please come here and tell those nice PCs how you've threatened to walk out on me in the middle of the night?" He rolled his eyes and begrudgingly got up from the couch. So that was what he got for not keeping his hormones in check. A whole bunch of trouble and a beautiful and fascinating woman that had him wrapped around the finger enough to not to walk away.

"Coming, babe!" Methos called back with a grimace of distaste on his face, though he managed to keep his voice relatively neutral. He slowly and resignedly made his way to the front door.

The police constables were just like he had imagined them to be: relatively nondescript, thanks to their uniforms that successfully drowned out any semblance of individuality on the first glance. He wouldn't have been able to describe them in any terms different than saying they were a woman and a man in their mid-thirties.

Methos stepped next to Liz and laid his arms around her shoulders casually. "What's going on?" he asked simply.

"We are suspected of housing a fugitive criminal," Liz announced stiffly. Her act of fake indignation was simply delicious and quite convincing, so he felt compelled to deliver a good performance as well.

He stifled a laugh. It didn't sound artificial, probably because he was really amused by the situation as a whole. "Crikey! You're pulling my leg, love." Quite on purpose he had switched to a bit of a more working class London accent.

"No, unfortunately I'm not. Are you hiding another woman in our house? That would be so like you... Please do tell, PCs Shipton and Sheridan, how you cheated on me with that slut from the office!" she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him pointedly. To an outside observer it might have looked like what she wanted to say with that glance was "Explain yourself, you lying scum-bag!', but he knew better. It meant "You better put on your best performance now!" He wasn't going to disappoint her.

"Oh, give a bloke a break, will ya? I've already explained. I was bit pissed and lonely, alright? You being away on business trips for god knows how long... You make it sound like I'm the one to blame when it's your own bloody fault!" he had strategically raised his voice while he had been saying those couple of sentences. It did the trick because those PCs were starting to look rather uncomfortable.

"My fault, you say? So I made you get pissed and forced you to snog that trollup? Is that what you're trying to say?" Her voice was also louder now, almost shrill. Also she was jamming her index finger into his chest repeatedly. He wasn't bothered by it, but the part he played required him to act as if he was. He caught her hand by the wrist and looked at her darkly. She stared back at him with an equally dark expression on her face.

"Sir? Madame? I'm sure there is no need for this...," PC Shipton called out. They'd better tone it down a bit before they made their animate argument look too convincing, or better, convincing enough for the police to step in.

Methos let go off her hand with a disgusted grunt. They both stepped back and glared into opposite directions with their arms crossed over their chests. He would have to congratulate her on her stellar acting talents later.

"I see...," PC Sheridan coughed embarrassedly.

"Sorry for disturbing you," PC Shipton supplied. Both of them were already on the retreat, slowly backing away from the front door.

Methos and Liz pretended not to hear them, throwing insulting remarks back and forth between the two of them until the two cops were out of hearing range.

"Are they gone?" Liz finally asked lowering her voice.

He just nodded, so they both hurried inside. She closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. He did the same, except for the sigh part. They shared a look and both started smiling, though for completely different reasons. "That was fun!" she said excitedly.

"Yeah, about as much fun as being stabbed in the gut," his smile of relief from before had become a rather sardonic one by now.

She nudged him in the side. "Not much of a risk taker, are we? Come on. The cat's out of the bag. I've seen it in your eyes. It's okay to admit you've had a bit of fun. It won't possibly ruin that sarcastic and aloof act you've got going on for yourself."

"It's not an act," he said darkly.

She grinned apparently adrenaline had the tendency of not making her susceptible to seriousness. "Come now, sweetheart. You don't fool me. Sure it's an act. All the world's a stage..."

"You start quoting Shakespeare at a time like this?" he was unsure whether to be scandalised or fascinated.

"Is there a better time?" Her smile was up close now. He just had enough time to register the slightly mad sparkle in her eyes, probably stemming from a combination of excitement and sleep-deprivation, before she pressed a kiss to his lips. Sort of like a punctuation to her rhetorical question.

"You were great," she told him proudly. "Also the fake accent? Brilliant. I suspected you were good, but that good? Yowza!" Again she kissed him on the lips soundly. He responded to her kiss and pulled her closer against him.

"No, no, no, love," she grinned against his lips and pulled a bit back. "First you admit that you liked it."

"You're not serious!" he stared at her incredulously and rolled his eyes.

She just looked at him, the left corner of her mouth curved slightly upward. Her lips were red from being kissed and quite inviting. The expression in her eyes was gentle, though also a bit teasing.

"You're serious," he deduced finally and let out a resigned sigh.

"Always am, love," she kissed his cheek softly. "Always am."

He laughed at that. Because it was flat out lie and they both knew it. She was rarely ever serious about something. He only hoped she was serious about them.

"Come on then, say it. Say that you enjoyed yourself. Not that hard to do," her hands were under his sweater now, travelling up his back as she punctuated the words by pressing tiny kisses to his neck.

"You're aware that this way you'll get me to admit to anything, right?"

"Counting on it." He could hear the smile in her voice.

He had chosen to remain rather passive for the time being. Mainly because he was interested in where this would lead. Actually the where-part was already quite clear by now just not the how. It became harder and harder not to reciprocate her touch. His resolve was waning. Manipulating her or staying detached was getting more and more difficult because the longer he knew her, the more challenging it became. Then when her mouth closed over a especially sensitive spot on his neck, his resolve finally crumbled and the sensation of her kiss triggered some sort of primal response in him.

Their positions were quickly reversed. He had her neatly pinned against the door in the blink of an eye, but she just smiled a cheeky smile at him. "Off to bed then?" she just asked.