Trecia- I haven't completely abandoned Generation Divide, I just have major
writer's block on it. I have a chappy that I'm working on and will post it
when I finish it, promise. If you have any suggestions e-mail me.
Cal- welcome to the world of the Richie-fans. I hope this story keeps you on the right path. I have an unhealthy love of the kid and am always up for converting people.
Richiefic- if you're reading this can you e-mail me? I have a question I want to ask you and can't get you're e-mil from your biopage.
Everyone else- I'm done with my little AN now. Well, except that I apologize to anyone who is from southern Missouri, because I am not and am totally making all this up. I chose this particular 'school' because you can call it SoMo, I find that to be a cute college name. Everyone seems to be most anxious to find out the dark haired girl's name (kinda reminds me of the little red haired girl from Charlie Brown) so with out further ado Richie shall pop the question.
Richie watched everyone enter the large classroom waiting for the girl to come in. He glanced briefly at the clock, five minutes until class started and she wasn't there yet. She said she was going to come. Maybe she was just being nice, maybe she didn't like him like he thought, maybe something happened to her. . .
"Heya!" maybe she slipped in while he blinked.
"Heya," he said back with a smile as she sat down next to him. "I have a stupid question."
"Do you want me to give you a stupid answer?"
"No serious will be just fine. Uh, what's your name?"
She grinned and toothy grin and laughed lightly. "Sorry, I know who you are and it didn't occur to me that you didn't know me."
"I'd like to, uh. . . what did you say your name was again?"
Her grin widened. "Heather."
Richie wrinkled his nose. "You don't look like a Heather," he said.
"I don't? Then what do I look like?"
"I don't know, just the dark hair, the green eyes. . . which are very nice by the way. . . something more exotic. Like um, Sheena, or Amelia or something."
"I'll be sure to register a complaint with my parents."
Richie chuckled. "Be sure to tell me how that goes. Oh! Um, hang on." He dug around his bag for a second. "Finished it." He handed her a copy of his paper.
"Oh, yeah!" She took it from him and skimmed to where she had left off.
After class Richie walked with her down the hall. "So, what are you doing after this?" he asked.
"I have class."
"Until?"
"Four. Are you asking me out?"
Richie made a face. "I'm trying to, but if you keep having classes it might not work. I have practice at five."
"After practice?"
"Are you asking me out now? That's not fair, it was my idea."
"Fine, sorry," she said with a smile.
"So, practice ends at seven, so what about seven thirty? Is that to late?"
"I don't know. I mean it is a school night an' everything. . . sure why not? Seven thirty."
Richie's heart skipped a beat. "Dinner?"
"Sure," she grinned her toothy grin. "You pick. Seein' as it was your idea an' all."
"Okay, seven thirty. Where?"
"How about the fountain. The big one with the flowers in the middle of the courtyard?"
"Yeah, sure. Seven thirty at the fountain. See ya then," he turned and left before he could do or say anything stupid. Halfway down the hall a familiar sensation hit Richie. "Uh-oh," he said aloud. Contrary to what he had been telling Duncan, Richie hadn't been practicing his fencing. He had been slacking off in favor of studying and working. His sword was actually on the top shelf of his closet and had been since the first week of school. He hadn't been too worried; he'd been at school half a semester and hadn't run into any immortals, until now. He tracked the buzz to a history professor's office. 'Should have known,' he thought with a weary grin. He had just reached to knock on the door when it opened.
"Come in," said a rather average looking man moving aside for Richie to enter. "I am Simon Miller," he continued closing the door.
"Richie Ryan."
"1763"
"Huh?"
"I was born 1763."
"Oh, um, 1974."
"So I take it you didn't have to forge any papers when you applied?" Simon asked with a slight smile.
Richie swallowed hard. "No."
"Don't worry, I have no interest in your quickening."
"Good, 'cause I'd like to keep it for awhile if I can," Richie answered.
"You shouldn't have anything to worry about, you're the first immortal I've run into in six years."
"That's good to know. I should probably warn you that immortals have this habit of finding me, so our population may be growing."
"I'll keep that in mind. . . wait a minute. Richie Ryan, where have I heard that name before?"
"You ever worked for the Washington police department?" Richie asked with a slight grin, slowly relaxing in the presence of this strange immortal.
"Washington!" Simon exclaimed startling Richie. "You're Duncan MacLeod's boy."
"I wouldn't put it like that really, but I know Mac."
"There we go, that's where I've heard of you."
"You know Mac?"
"No, not directly. But I'm sure you've noticed he's pretty high on most hit lists."
"Now that you mention it. . ." Richie replied sarcastically.
"You do realize that being his student gives you a bit of a reputation. People expect you to be good."
"Something tells me I'm not exactly perceived as a threat among immortal social circles."
"Reputations aren't always true. But I still have no interest in challenging you, who you are makes no difference to me."
"Thanks, I think." An awkward silence filled the room. "Uh, look, not be rude or anything, but I have a paper I gotta turn in and a test to study for, so, uh, I gotta go," Richie said moving toward the door.
"Right. First semester freshman year, a lot to do."
Richie turned around and looked at him. "How'd you it was my first year?"
"I haven't run into anyone for six years remember? I'm surprised it took us this long to meet."
"Oh, right," Richie said feeling a little stupid.
"If I was MacLeod's student I'd be paranoid, too," Simon said with a smile.
. . . . . .
"Hello?" Richie answered his cell phone on the third ring.
"Hey, Rich."
"Hey, Mac."
"You sound distracted," Duncan commented.
"Do you know the difference between retroactive and proactive learning?" Richie asked.
"No."
"Neither do I, that's the problem."
Duncan chuckled. "It never seemed to bother you before."
"I wasn't getting tested over it before," Richie mumbled. "What do you want?"
"Tickets," Duncan answered. "To the Washington game. Three."
"That's two months away."
"This way I can keep bugging you until you remember."
"They're as good as in the mail, Mac."
"Good. Well, I guess I'll let you go."
"Kay, talk to ya later."
"What's her name?" Duncan asked suddenly before Richie had a chance to hang up.
"Who's name?" Richie asked confusedly.
"The girl that's distracting you."
"There's no girl here. It's just me," Richie glanced around the empty dorm room as if to prove his point.
"Fine, the girl you're thinking about."
"Mac!"
"The girl you're trying no to think about, then."
Richie rolled his eyes. Duncan had a point. "Heather."
"I'll be sure to tell Amanda."
"Aw, man! Not you, too!"
Duncan laughed. "Bye, Richie."
"Bye, Mac."
. . . . . .
"O'Neal! Ryan's not your man! Cover Sinclair!" Coach Roberts yelled.
"Yeah, get off me," Richie snarled taking a shot, which he made. "Not like you're doing any good."
O'Neal glared at him. "Shut up, Ryan," he spat jogging down the court next to Richie.
"Hey, I just call them like I see them," Richie shrugged turning back around and following the ball back down the court with O'Neal at his heals. Richie caught the ball and pivoted looking for some one to pass it to. He pivoted left and found O'Neal panting in his face. "Winded old man?" Richie asked tossing the ball behind his back to Sinclair. Who turned and shot making a three pointer. "That's your man you know," Richie laughed turning around and setting up for the next play.
O'Neal hit him from behind sending Richie crashing to the ground. "Sorry, shorty! Didn't see you there!" he laughed offering Richie a hand.
'Yeah, right,' Richie thought bitterly. "I'll try and stay out of your way.
O'Neal heaved Richie to his feet and grabbed him by his shoulders. "Stay away from my sister," he growled shoving Richie away and running back to the scrimmage.
"O'Neal, stop playing games!" Coach Roberts yelled. "Ryan! Get in there!"
"What the hell was that all about?" Richie demanded once Coach Roberts had gone into his office after practice. O'Neal grabbed Richie by his shirt and pulled him close.
"Stay away from my sister," he repeated.
"I don't know your sister, man," Richie insisted.
"Really? Because I hear you're taking her out tonight."
"Wait, your sister is Heather?" Richie asked. "Figures."
"Yeah, so don't get any ideas."
"The only idea I'm trying to come up with is where to take her to dinner. 'Cause we're going out tonight."
"No, you're not."
Richie pried O'Neal's fingers off his shirt. "If you'll excuse me, I need to shower, because I have a date in half an hour."
. . . . . .
Heather and Richie walked hand in hand down the restaurant strip just off campus.
"So what are you hungry for?" Richie asked.
"I thought you were supposed to pick."
"I pick to go where ever you want to go."
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Do you have a preference?"
"Nah, I'm up for anything. . . just not The Stadium. . . anywhere but there." The Stadium was the local university hangout/restaurant/bar. The entire staff was part of the athletic department at the university, and Richie was among them.
Heather laughed. "Okay, no Stadium. What about The Pie Shoppe?"
Richie grinned. "Pizza, always a good solution."
They made their way down the strip to the small pizzeria at the end of the block.
"So I took a year off, tried out, and here I am," Richie finished taking another bite.
"How come you didn't try out senior year?" Heather asked.
"Even with a partial scholarship I wouldn't have had the money. Not even for a semester. I mean, the out of state tuition here is insane."
"In state's not that much better."
"So what about you? Why Somo?"
"Performing arts," she answered. "I'm a bit of a thespian."
"Drama geek, huh? What's you specialty?"
"Musical theatre."
"A singer?"
"Yup."
"Impressive." A tall figure entered the restaurant and caught Richie's eye. "Oh, great. We've got company," he groaned.
Heather turned around as O'Neal approached them. "Has he been giving you a hard time?" she asked Richie.
"I can handle him," he assured her.
"Hey, Ryan. What did I tell you about dating my sister?" O'Neal demanded.
"Can I help you?" Richie asked pleasantly.
"Stay away from my sister."
"I am away from her. See? There's a who table between us."
"Alex," Heather sighed. "I can take care of myself."
"I don't want to see you with this loser." O'Neal told her.
"Then go somewhere else," she suggested. "Because we're in the middle of dinner and I'm not leaving."
O'Neal turned to Richie. "I'll see you on the court."
"Sure thing," Richie said as he left.
"Sorry about that," Heather said. "You'd think he'd get over that whole 'big brother protecting little sister' thin by now."
"It's not your fault. And don't worry, he's not the first giant to come after me for asking his sister out."
"Don't tell me you have a rep back in where ever Washington."
"Seacouver," Richie reminded her. "And no, I don't. I guess I just give off that don't let your sister date me vibe for some reason."
"So I can trust you?"
"Of course. . . but not around gummy worms. I have a thing for gummy worms. I can't be held responsible for what may happen then."
Heather giggled and threw a balled up napkin at him.
. . . . . .
Richie danced his way through the kitchen the next afternoon at the Stadium.
"Wow, man, what's with you?" Jeremy Clifford, who live across the hall from Richie and was the second string q.b. and one of the cooks asked.
"She digs me," Richie replied loading his tray for table twelve.
"That girl? You mean you actually asked her out?"
"Uh-huh. Her name's Heather. We went out last night, it was great. I thought I was all over wen O'Neal showed up, but it worked out."
"O'Neal? Old boyfriend?" Jeremy handed him an order of fries.
"Nope, brother. Freakishly protective brother. Be right back." He left the kitchen with the tray at his shoulder.
"Hey, Rich, you're sat at 15," a pretty volleyball player told him as she passed.
"Thanks." He stopped by table twelve and dropped off their food. He went over a piled his tray with the others and turned to greet his new table. A strong buzz started in the back of his skull as he approached. He smiled. It had to be Simon Miller. There were no other immortals around here. "Professor Mill- - Mac?" Richie stopped short a few feet away from the table.
Duncan looked up from the menu. "Hey, Rich."
Richie blinked a couple times. "What are you doing here?"
"We're hungry," Duncan shrugged.
"We?" Richie repeated. "Who else is here?"
"Just me and Amanda."
"Aw, geeze, man! You gotta be kidding me!" A second buzz hit him as Amanda walked towards them.
"Hello, Richard," she purred running her fingers lightly across his back as she slid into the booth across from Duncan.
"Ice tea and a beer, right?" Richie groaned.
"You're cute when you blush," Amanda told him.
"I'll take that as a yes," Richie turned and left stopping another table on his way.
"You didn't tell me you were working," Duncan commented as Richie put the beer in front of him.
"Yeah, well it just kinda happened. And you didn't tell me you were coming, so we're even. How'd you guys find me?"
"Joe."
"Joe? How'd he know?"
"Mike."
Richie had forgotten about Mike. "Damn Watchers. Can't keep they're mouths shut. You know what you want?"
Richie went into the kitchen to turn in the order.
"So much for being right back," Jeremy greeted him.
"New table. So where was I?"
"Big brother."
"Yeah, so he's already tried to kick my ass twice. The first time I didn't even know why he was so mad at me."
"What'd he do?" Jeremy asked.
"Got a little rough at practice last night, then followed us on our date. I better get back out there." Richie turned and went to check on his tables.
"Can you even breathe?" Amanda asked as Richie came to collect the dirty dishes.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah."
"I just couldn't tell because you're jeans are so tight."
Richie grinned. "Oh, the tighter the jeans the bigger the tip. Just a little something I picked up. That and flirting, flirting helps, too."
"You've always been good at that," Duncan commented pulling out his wallet.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Richie demanded. "Do you see a check? Put that away." Duncan looked up at him. "It's on me," he grinned. "And don't even begin to fight me on this."
"But, Rich. . ."
"Ah, ah, ah! No buts. I'm paying and that's final."
Duncan started to protest again, but Amanda interrupted him. "Let him pay, Duncan."
"Thank you, Amanda. So why are you guys here? I know you didn't just happen to be in the neighborhood."
"We just needed to drop something off," Duncan answered with a smile.
"I don't like that look, you're up to something."
"Maybe."
"Mac! Man, what did you do?" He noticed a table with empty glasses. "I'll be right back."
"Let's go," Duncan said dropping something on the table as soon as Richie's quickening faded away.
Cal- welcome to the world of the Richie-fans. I hope this story keeps you on the right path. I have an unhealthy love of the kid and am always up for converting people.
Richiefic- if you're reading this can you e-mail me? I have a question I want to ask you and can't get you're e-mil from your biopage.
Everyone else- I'm done with my little AN now. Well, except that I apologize to anyone who is from southern Missouri, because I am not and am totally making all this up. I chose this particular 'school' because you can call it SoMo, I find that to be a cute college name. Everyone seems to be most anxious to find out the dark haired girl's name (kinda reminds me of the little red haired girl from Charlie Brown) so with out further ado Richie shall pop the question.
Richie watched everyone enter the large classroom waiting for the girl to come in. He glanced briefly at the clock, five minutes until class started and she wasn't there yet. She said she was going to come. Maybe she was just being nice, maybe she didn't like him like he thought, maybe something happened to her. . .
"Heya!" maybe she slipped in while he blinked.
"Heya," he said back with a smile as she sat down next to him. "I have a stupid question."
"Do you want me to give you a stupid answer?"
"No serious will be just fine. Uh, what's your name?"
She grinned and toothy grin and laughed lightly. "Sorry, I know who you are and it didn't occur to me that you didn't know me."
"I'd like to, uh. . . what did you say your name was again?"
Her grin widened. "Heather."
Richie wrinkled his nose. "You don't look like a Heather," he said.
"I don't? Then what do I look like?"
"I don't know, just the dark hair, the green eyes. . . which are very nice by the way. . . something more exotic. Like um, Sheena, or Amelia or something."
"I'll be sure to register a complaint with my parents."
Richie chuckled. "Be sure to tell me how that goes. Oh! Um, hang on." He dug around his bag for a second. "Finished it." He handed her a copy of his paper.
"Oh, yeah!" She took it from him and skimmed to where she had left off.
After class Richie walked with her down the hall. "So, what are you doing after this?" he asked.
"I have class."
"Until?"
"Four. Are you asking me out?"
Richie made a face. "I'm trying to, but if you keep having classes it might not work. I have practice at five."
"After practice?"
"Are you asking me out now? That's not fair, it was my idea."
"Fine, sorry," she said with a smile.
"So, practice ends at seven, so what about seven thirty? Is that to late?"
"I don't know. I mean it is a school night an' everything. . . sure why not? Seven thirty."
Richie's heart skipped a beat. "Dinner?"
"Sure," she grinned her toothy grin. "You pick. Seein' as it was your idea an' all."
"Okay, seven thirty. Where?"
"How about the fountain. The big one with the flowers in the middle of the courtyard?"
"Yeah, sure. Seven thirty at the fountain. See ya then," he turned and left before he could do or say anything stupid. Halfway down the hall a familiar sensation hit Richie. "Uh-oh," he said aloud. Contrary to what he had been telling Duncan, Richie hadn't been practicing his fencing. He had been slacking off in favor of studying and working. His sword was actually on the top shelf of his closet and had been since the first week of school. He hadn't been too worried; he'd been at school half a semester and hadn't run into any immortals, until now. He tracked the buzz to a history professor's office. 'Should have known,' he thought with a weary grin. He had just reached to knock on the door when it opened.
"Come in," said a rather average looking man moving aside for Richie to enter. "I am Simon Miller," he continued closing the door.
"Richie Ryan."
"1763"
"Huh?"
"I was born 1763."
"Oh, um, 1974."
"So I take it you didn't have to forge any papers when you applied?" Simon asked with a slight smile.
Richie swallowed hard. "No."
"Don't worry, I have no interest in your quickening."
"Good, 'cause I'd like to keep it for awhile if I can," Richie answered.
"You shouldn't have anything to worry about, you're the first immortal I've run into in six years."
"That's good to know. I should probably warn you that immortals have this habit of finding me, so our population may be growing."
"I'll keep that in mind. . . wait a minute. Richie Ryan, where have I heard that name before?"
"You ever worked for the Washington police department?" Richie asked with a slight grin, slowly relaxing in the presence of this strange immortal.
"Washington!" Simon exclaimed startling Richie. "You're Duncan MacLeod's boy."
"I wouldn't put it like that really, but I know Mac."
"There we go, that's where I've heard of you."
"You know Mac?"
"No, not directly. But I'm sure you've noticed he's pretty high on most hit lists."
"Now that you mention it. . ." Richie replied sarcastically.
"You do realize that being his student gives you a bit of a reputation. People expect you to be good."
"Something tells me I'm not exactly perceived as a threat among immortal social circles."
"Reputations aren't always true. But I still have no interest in challenging you, who you are makes no difference to me."
"Thanks, I think." An awkward silence filled the room. "Uh, look, not be rude or anything, but I have a paper I gotta turn in and a test to study for, so, uh, I gotta go," Richie said moving toward the door.
"Right. First semester freshman year, a lot to do."
Richie turned around and looked at him. "How'd you it was my first year?"
"I haven't run into anyone for six years remember? I'm surprised it took us this long to meet."
"Oh, right," Richie said feeling a little stupid.
"If I was MacLeod's student I'd be paranoid, too," Simon said with a smile.
. . . . . .
"Hello?" Richie answered his cell phone on the third ring.
"Hey, Rich."
"Hey, Mac."
"You sound distracted," Duncan commented.
"Do you know the difference between retroactive and proactive learning?" Richie asked.
"No."
"Neither do I, that's the problem."
Duncan chuckled. "It never seemed to bother you before."
"I wasn't getting tested over it before," Richie mumbled. "What do you want?"
"Tickets," Duncan answered. "To the Washington game. Three."
"That's two months away."
"This way I can keep bugging you until you remember."
"They're as good as in the mail, Mac."
"Good. Well, I guess I'll let you go."
"Kay, talk to ya later."
"What's her name?" Duncan asked suddenly before Richie had a chance to hang up.
"Who's name?" Richie asked confusedly.
"The girl that's distracting you."
"There's no girl here. It's just me," Richie glanced around the empty dorm room as if to prove his point.
"Fine, the girl you're thinking about."
"Mac!"
"The girl you're trying no to think about, then."
Richie rolled his eyes. Duncan had a point. "Heather."
"I'll be sure to tell Amanda."
"Aw, man! Not you, too!"
Duncan laughed. "Bye, Richie."
"Bye, Mac."
. . . . . .
"O'Neal! Ryan's not your man! Cover Sinclair!" Coach Roberts yelled.
"Yeah, get off me," Richie snarled taking a shot, which he made. "Not like you're doing any good."
O'Neal glared at him. "Shut up, Ryan," he spat jogging down the court next to Richie.
"Hey, I just call them like I see them," Richie shrugged turning back around and following the ball back down the court with O'Neal at his heals. Richie caught the ball and pivoted looking for some one to pass it to. He pivoted left and found O'Neal panting in his face. "Winded old man?" Richie asked tossing the ball behind his back to Sinclair. Who turned and shot making a three pointer. "That's your man you know," Richie laughed turning around and setting up for the next play.
O'Neal hit him from behind sending Richie crashing to the ground. "Sorry, shorty! Didn't see you there!" he laughed offering Richie a hand.
'Yeah, right,' Richie thought bitterly. "I'll try and stay out of your way.
O'Neal heaved Richie to his feet and grabbed him by his shoulders. "Stay away from my sister," he growled shoving Richie away and running back to the scrimmage.
"O'Neal, stop playing games!" Coach Roberts yelled. "Ryan! Get in there!"
"What the hell was that all about?" Richie demanded once Coach Roberts had gone into his office after practice. O'Neal grabbed Richie by his shirt and pulled him close.
"Stay away from my sister," he repeated.
"I don't know your sister, man," Richie insisted.
"Really? Because I hear you're taking her out tonight."
"Wait, your sister is Heather?" Richie asked. "Figures."
"Yeah, so don't get any ideas."
"The only idea I'm trying to come up with is where to take her to dinner. 'Cause we're going out tonight."
"No, you're not."
Richie pried O'Neal's fingers off his shirt. "If you'll excuse me, I need to shower, because I have a date in half an hour."
. . . . . .
Heather and Richie walked hand in hand down the restaurant strip just off campus.
"So what are you hungry for?" Richie asked.
"I thought you were supposed to pick."
"I pick to go where ever you want to go."
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Do you have a preference?"
"Nah, I'm up for anything. . . just not The Stadium. . . anywhere but there." The Stadium was the local university hangout/restaurant/bar. The entire staff was part of the athletic department at the university, and Richie was among them.
Heather laughed. "Okay, no Stadium. What about The Pie Shoppe?"
Richie grinned. "Pizza, always a good solution."
They made their way down the strip to the small pizzeria at the end of the block.
"So I took a year off, tried out, and here I am," Richie finished taking another bite.
"How come you didn't try out senior year?" Heather asked.
"Even with a partial scholarship I wouldn't have had the money. Not even for a semester. I mean, the out of state tuition here is insane."
"In state's not that much better."
"So what about you? Why Somo?"
"Performing arts," she answered. "I'm a bit of a thespian."
"Drama geek, huh? What's you specialty?"
"Musical theatre."
"A singer?"
"Yup."
"Impressive." A tall figure entered the restaurant and caught Richie's eye. "Oh, great. We've got company," he groaned.
Heather turned around as O'Neal approached them. "Has he been giving you a hard time?" she asked Richie.
"I can handle him," he assured her.
"Hey, Ryan. What did I tell you about dating my sister?" O'Neal demanded.
"Can I help you?" Richie asked pleasantly.
"Stay away from my sister."
"I am away from her. See? There's a who table between us."
"Alex," Heather sighed. "I can take care of myself."
"I don't want to see you with this loser." O'Neal told her.
"Then go somewhere else," she suggested. "Because we're in the middle of dinner and I'm not leaving."
O'Neal turned to Richie. "I'll see you on the court."
"Sure thing," Richie said as he left.
"Sorry about that," Heather said. "You'd think he'd get over that whole 'big brother protecting little sister' thin by now."
"It's not your fault. And don't worry, he's not the first giant to come after me for asking his sister out."
"Don't tell me you have a rep back in where ever Washington."
"Seacouver," Richie reminded her. "And no, I don't. I guess I just give off that don't let your sister date me vibe for some reason."
"So I can trust you?"
"Of course. . . but not around gummy worms. I have a thing for gummy worms. I can't be held responsible for what may happen then."
Heather giggled and threw a balled up napkin at him.
. . . . . .
Richie danced his way through the kitchen the next afternoon at the Stadium.
"Wow, man, what's with you?" Jeremy Clifford, who live across the hall from Richie and was the second string q.b. and one of the cooks asked.
"She digs me," Richie replied loading his tray for table twelve.
"That girl? You mean you actually asked her out?"
"Uh-huh. Her name's Heather. We went out last night, it was great. I thought I was all over wen O'Neal showed up, but it worked out."
"O'Neal? Old boyfriend?" Jeremy handed him an order of fries.
"Nope, brother. Freakishly protective brother. Be right back." He left the kitchen with the tray at his shoulder.
"Hey, Rich, you're sat at 15," a pretty volleyball player told him as she passed.
"Thanks." He stopped by table twelve and dropped off their food. He went over a piled his tray with the others and turned to greet his new table. A strong buzz started in the back of his skull as he approached. He smiled. It had to be Simon Miller. There were no other immortals around here. "Professor Mill- - Mac?" Richie stopped short a few feet away from the table.
Duncan looked up from the menu. "Hey, Rich."
Richie blinked a couple times. "What are you doing here?"
"We're hungry," Duncan shrugged.
"We?" Richie repeated. "Who else is here?"
"Just me and Amanda."
"Aw, geeze, man! You gotta be kidding me!" A second buzz hit him as Amanda walked towards them.
"Hello, Richard," she purred running her fingers lightly across his back as she slid into the booth across from Duncan.
"Ice tea and a beer, right?" Richie groaned.
"You're cute when you blush," Amanda told him.
"I'll take that as a yes," Richie turned and left stopping another table on his way.
"You didn't tell me you were working," Duncan commented as Richie put the beer in front of him.
"Yeah, well it just kinda happened. And you didn't tell me you were coming, so we're even. How'd you guys find me?"
"Joe."
"Joe? How'd he know?"
"Mike."
Richie had forgotten about Mike. "Damn Watchers. Can't keep they're mouths shut. You know what you want?"
Richie went into the kitchen to turn in the order.
"So much for being right back," Jeremy greeted him.
"New table. So where was I?"
"Big brother."
"Yeah, so he's already tried to kick my ass twice. The first time I didn't even know why he was so mad at me."
"What'd he do?" Jeremy asked.
"Got a little rough at practice last night, then followed us on our date. I better get back out there." Richie turned and went to check on his tables.
"Can you even breathe?" Amanda asked as Richie came to collect the dirty dishes.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah."
"I just couldn't tell because you're jeans are so tight."
Richie grinned. "Oh, the tighter the jeans the bigger the tip. Just a little something I picked up. That and flirting, flirting helps, too."
"You've always been good at that," Duncan commented pulling out his wallet.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Richie demanded. "Do you see a check? Put that away." Duncan looked up at him. "It's on me," he grinned. "And don't even begin to fight me on this."
"But, Rich. . ."
"Ah, ah, ah! No buts. I'm paying and that's final."
Duncan started to protest again, but Amanda interrupted him. "Let him pay, Duncan."
"Thank you, Amanda. So why are you guys here? I know you didn't just happen to be in the neighborhood."
"We just needed to drop something off," Duncan answered with a smile.
"I don't like that look, you're up to something."
"Maybe."
"Mac! Man, what did you do?" He noticed a table with empty glasses. "I'll be right back."
"Let's go," Duncan said dropping something on the table as soon as Richie's quickening faded away.