Author's note: So one more chapter before we're done... Have I mentioned that I revamped Chapter 6, 7 and 10? I haven't? Oh dear! Scandalous! Go check them out!
One more thing before we delve into the next part of the story. It pains me to say it, but unfortunately I can't speak ancient Egyptian no matter how hard I try to channel my inner Daniel Jackson. Is modern Arabic good enough for you, even if I've just looked it up online? I hope it is...
She smiled and waited a few moments to respond. After all it what was life without a bit of excitement? It wasn't like it was enough for him to just snap his fingers these days and make her want to leave. He threw her a sad puppy dog look which was actually quite adorable. She finally nodded begrudgingly. He took her affirmation as the signal to initiate their strategic retreat. He stifled a dramatic yawn that initially went by unnoticed by MacLeod and Richie. Only when he repeated it a second time, the Scotsman noticed. As a consequence Methos muttered some mediocre excuse about being terribly tired and having to leave, impatiently dragging her after him by the hand, explaining his action by calling out to Richie and Duncan that she would have an early start tomorrow and that he had to make sure she got home okay. Of course, his words were rather ironic and he didn't trouble himself with concealing the reasons of their speedy departure properly and therefore their friends were watching them leave with knowing smiles on their faces.
Liz didn't mind. In practically no time they had grabbed their coats were out on the street. She wrapped hers more tightly around her body. He walked closer to her bumping her shoulder with his which made her turn her head and smile at him. They were heading towards his car. The last time she had failed to comment on the type of car he drove, but this time she would not let the opportunity pass her by again. "So my car's only fit for safaris? Who drove yours before you did? Some Soccer Mom?"
He just grinned a saccharine smile at her as he held the door for her. "Just get in."
For a moment it looked as if she wanted to lean in to kiss him, but she defused the situation with a wicked grin and a quite mischievously spoken "alright" before she quickly sat down.
He smirked briefly at her antics and shook his head, but shortly after jogged around the car, got in and started the engine.
He was a decent driver. The way he steered the car down the street, shifted gears, stopped at traffic lights and sped up again had something trust inspiring and relaxing about it, at least to her. It made her feel safe. She leaned back into the seat and slipped out of her heels with a sigh.
"So let's talk the inevitable talk," he said after a while, breaking the silence in the car that was wavering somewhere between almost comfortable and subtly uncomfortable. "You wanted to run away earlier?"
Liz really should have known that he wouldn't have forgotten about Richie's thoughtless comment from before. She threw him a look, letting her eyes run over his profile. It struck her as strange and somewhat self-deprecating that he sometimes made self-ironic jokes about his nose. She didn't get why. It suited his face. It was a nice nose. And a nice face. She had come to appreciate it. A lot. It seemed foolish that she had wanted to run away from him earlier. "What counts is that I didn't right?"
"Right." His eyes narrowed, crinkling a bit at the side. Maybe he was watching a distant car in the review mirror, or maybe he had some objection to make regarding her comment. "I've still got one more question though... Why?" he asked simply
Of course, her somewhat rhetorical question from before hadn't satisfied his curiosity. Her next attempt was just as meek at best, but she tried nevertheless. "Stage fright?" she supplied. He threw her a short, but rather pointed look that told her he wasn't buying it. Had he done anything less, she would have had to ask whether he was an imposter.
"Alright, I admit it. It wasn't stage fright," Liz amended. "'If only it were...," she muttered under her breath ill-humouredly. She turned her face towards the window. Thanks to the darkness outside she could see her own reflection in the window pane. The strict ponytail, the dark mascara around her eyes. Her mask for tonight. She wore many of them. With him, though, she always felt a need to take them off.
"So you had a weak moment and decided to run," he summed up the situation. His tone of voice didn't give anything away. No disappointment, no sort of moral judgement. She turned her head to look at him, finding it safest to have an eye on him or else one of those subtle underlying themes of their conversation would escape her. Sometimes his scepticism was clearly visible in the way he arched his eyebrows when he spoke, even if his tone didn't give it away. This time he was not looking at her when he spoke, but at the crossroads in front of them. It made reading him a lot more difficult.
She sighed. Those relationship talks were never easy. That's why she generally avoided having them. The talks and the relationships, that was. Now she felt compelled to make an effort. Because with him things were different. He made her care.
"It's more complicated than that," she started.
"Well, it usually is. I'm all ears," he said simply. The streetlights from up ahead were intermittently bathing his features in their soft orangey hue.
"Well, for starters I've never quite gotten the appeal of conventional relationships," she admitted finally, unsure of how he would take her confession. It was true that he wasn't the most conventional sort of guy. His decision making was sometimes purely based on the fact whether something was useful and positive to him. It was less about what moral dictated was right, though he did have some moral principles he kept well hidden from others. That much she knew for a fact. But what did he think about the concept of love? That was actually the question on which what would happen between them from this moment on ultimately hinged.
"What do you mean by conventional?" he enquired, his voice sounding deceptively neutral.
"How should I know? I've never had a 'conventional' relationship before. I suppose, they are like the ones they talk about in poems, movies, books and love songs... It's implied that you should want to spend every waking moment with your significant other until death do you part. Joined at the hip. That sort of thing." Judging by the disgusted tone of her voice she did not find that notion particularly appealing. He decided to enquire further into the matter.
"Right. I'll try not to take what you've just said too personal. If I did, I'd have to assume that you've already grown tired of my company."
"Sorry" she chuckled, briefly squeezing his knee in reassurance. "That came out completely wrong, didn't it? It's not that. Really."
He nodded slowly and out of the corners of her eyes she could also see him smile. After all her inability to put what she meant into clear and concise words was vaguely amusing. It usually didn't happen to her. Above all it was annoying, to her at least. She let out a frustrated huff and ran her hands over her face. This talk was really exhausting. It shouldn't be so hard trying to tell someone how you really felt. "I really do enjoy spending time with you."
"Enjoy," he repeated mockingly. His tone was telling her that he was not particularly amused by her choice of word.
"What's wrong with that word, huh?" She crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.
"Nothing. Perfectly nice words as they go. Just sort of neutral. You can enjoy a meal," the corners of his mouth curved into an ironic smile as he took away one hand from the steering wheel to gesticulate. "Or you can call it delicious or even go so far as to say it's an explosion of your taste buds. Just pointing out, that there are miles between those statements."
"So I take it, you want this to be one of those talks where we actually say out loud what we are meaning to say to each other?" her voice sounded slightly scandalised but also considerably amused.
"Now there's a thought. Don't you agree? Wouldn't that be helpful for a change?"
She sighed. And ran her hands over her face. The lengths she was willing to go to for this man. "Alright. So you want me to say it? I'll say it..." She paused, trying to access that softer side of her, she had locked away inside of herself somewhere. It was hard to admit to those things out loud, because she was all too aware they made her vulnerable. "I miss you when you're not there. Always. It's really quite a bother. "
If he said something sarcastic now like 'Awww! How cute!' she was going to smack him over the head, even at the risk that they would have an accident. She didn't like his car anyway. And after all they had their immortality. They would remain unscathed while not as much could be said for the car.
Amidst her bizarre musings about traffic accidents and ugly cars he surprised her with his next move. There was quick eye contact between them, not longer than the fraction of a second, his right hand briefly released the steering wheel and squeezed her knee. It was warm and she could feel its soft touch quite intensely through the fabric of her dress. "I miss you too."
A pleasant warmth flooded her. She had to smile. A smile that was rather goofy and stupid, she could tell thanks to her reflection in the window pane. She tried to fight it down. She needed to explain herself more clearly. Something for which she needed rational thought. After a while her mind was actually gracious enough to supply her with a brief reminder of what their conversation had actually been about initially. She was thankful for that, it meant that her feelings for him hadn't turned her into some daft old, sentimental cow.
"Still I'm afraid I'm the wrong girl for conventional," she finally said.
"Conventional is not that high on my priority list anyway," he said with an amending smirk. "And that's not really the problem, is it?" The car stopped in front of a red traffic light which gave him the opportunity to fix her with his eyes.
They stared at each other for a long time in the twilight of the car that was only dimly illuminated by the streetlights outside. The traffic light switched from red to green. The car didn't move. Luckily hardly anyone was driving around the streets of Seacouver at this time of night, so they didn't inconvenience anyone. The expression on her face finally softened somewhat. She was about to relent and tell him what was really going on in her head.
"It's nothing really," she tried to lie bravely one last time.
"Sure..."
"Sometimes there is no subtext to a conversation. Can't you just accept things at face value?" He stayed silent and merely raised an eyebrow. That was all he needed to do to call her bluff. "Alright! Alright!" she sighed. "It's just that...Well, I love you, but I can't switch off my inner cynic. Love is a pretty difficult concept to grasp, especially for someone like me. I get attraction, I get lust, but I'm afraid love just beats me. I'm less experienced in that."
"Okay," he said slowly and was about to say more, but was interrupted by the angry honking of a car behind them. He swore and the car set into motion again. She was glad it did because this way his undivided attention wasn't focused solely on her. Sometimes that was rather unsettling. But even though his eyes weren't on her anymore this conversation was far from over.
Before he was able to think of anymore tricky questions to throw at her, she decided to buy herself some time by asking him something she had been wondering about for quite some time. "How come you're not pulling your hair out over this? I mean, no offence, love, you're one of the most cynical people I know."
"Who says I'm not?" He gave quite a lot away about his feelings with those simple words. They made her stomach tingle nervous. It was ironic how the car they were sitting in had a clear destination, Methos' apartment and was heading towards it quite inevitably, while this conversation was all volleys and curve balls. The car turned a corner and drove into the street he lived in. It was slowly rolling down it, almost creeping.
"At my age a lot of things boil down to regret and missed opportunities." He paused in between sentences. It was clear that the words that came out of his mouth didn't come to him easily. Each one seemed to cost him an effort. "I regret a lot of things I've done and some I haven't. From the moment I've first gotten to know you I knew I didn't want you to be one of those regrets. There was this thing about you. Some sort of attraction, like a pull drawing me in. It would have been difficult to walk away from that. Probably something I would have regretted later. A lot."
He was silent for a moment, because he had found a parking space right in front of his door and was currently busy reversing into it, which left her with some time to think and a brief window of privacy, because for once his focus wasn't on her. She smiled.
"So, what are you saying? That we're not supposed to fight our feelings? Does that mean we're supposed to just give in and go with the flow? Surely that's not what you're trying to tell me." Her final words had an ironic and almost disbelieving ring to it.
He turned off the motor and looked at her. "That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. We love each other. I'd say that pretty much puts a damper on the plan of going about this rationally. All we can do now is let it happen. I suppose we should lay some ground rules, try to be as honest as possible with each other..."
She interrupted him with a teasing smile: "That sounds like something coming from one of those How-to books."
"Does it? How would you know? Ever read one?" Why was he always so quick on the uptake? His quick wit was as irritating as it was charming.
She smirked at him. "No, back in the day 'Relationships for Dummies' wasn't written yet. And even if it had been around, I wouldn't have been bothered to read it. There was nothing that would have been worth the effort...," she glossed over her admission concerning her previous relationships by following it up with an immediate question of her own. "You've mentioned ground rules?"
"Does and don'ts," he supplied unnecessarily and somewhat smugly as if he was glad he had thought of it. She was quite aware of what he had wanted to imply. She was just surprised.
"Like what?"
"Basic things." Methos thought for a moment. "Monogamy?" He asked the question like he had just poured her a cup of tea and wanted to know whether she liked sugar with it. Same casualness.
She looked at him long and hard. Inevitably her thoughts travelled back to those married Immortals. What were their names again? Robert and Julia? No, that was probably not it. Regardless of the fact that she didn't remember their names properly anymore, the thought of them let her shudder. Was that where monogamy lead? She didn't feel like sharing him with another woman, not now and she couldn't imagine changing her mind about it in the future. But who was she to say that they wouldn't have driven each other batty a hundred years from now and needed a break from each other? It would be naïve to think that their relationship would always be smooth sailing.
"Why do you have to start with the tough ones?" Liz asked eventually when she felt like the silence between them had stretched on for too long.
"Is it a tough one?" She saw a sly glint in his eyes that told her he was fully aware that his question had been quite challenging.
"Off the top of my head it's not that hard to answer," she told him. "I'm quite possessive. I don't want to share you with anyone. Not now. Not any time soon. But the longer I think about it, the more sceptical I get. After all time passes and feelings change. Eventually things get messy. Cheating, break-ups..."
"The 'what-ifs' are only 'what-ifs' for now. We're right here. In this very moment. Not a couple of decades down the line. We can always renegotiate." He turned to her in his seat, fixing her with his eyes expectantly.
"Decades?" she smiled at his lapse of tongue. Or probably not a lapse of tongue, because he was always that aware of what he was saying and doing. Decades - that was quite cute actually. She would have expected him to say months or years. Surprisingly his unexpected admission only made it clearer to her that in this very conversation absolute honest was an utmost necessity.
"Look," she continued after a long drawn exhale. Each word that left her mouth cost her immense courage, because she was being more open about her feelings than she had been in a good while. Maybe ever. But if they wanted this not to turn into a train wreck they would have to be honest and upfront with each other. He was definitely right about this. There wasn't any room for misconceptions.
"I want you. Only you," she paused waiting for doubt to seep into her thoughts. It didn't come, so her statement had to be true. "I want what we have to last for as long as it makes us both happy." There now, she had said it. Now all he had to do was say something in response to her statement.
He took her hand in his and smiled. The car's engine was starting to cool down. There was a soft ticking noise coming from the hood. "Sounds about right."
"Okay," she said, letting out a long exhale. For some reason she had waited for his response with bated breath. "Anything I should know?"
"Yes," he said, looking at her sincerely in the dim light of the car. "Never run away without telling me first."
"If I tell you first, that's not running away," she pointed out.
"Let's not argue about semantics," he admonished her. "I'm trying to tell you that I'm willing to give you your freedom if that's what you want. All I want from you is to talk to me. Give me a chance to convince you to stay, to come back, whatever... I don't know... Just tell me. I want you to be happy, but personally I'd be happier if your concept of happiness involved me. "
"It does. I would have come back," she said defensively, but she also had to smile softly at his remark. It showed her that he cared. If she read between the lines, and she was well capable of that, she was aware of the implications. Abandonment issues, the fact that he cared for her, loved her and didn't want her to leave were only a few of the things his words implied.
"Good," he said softly, giving her hand a light squeeze. "Now shall we go in?"
She grinned. "Of course, unless you prefer sitting around in your car some more because you haven't tidied up your place."
He smiled at her comment and shook his head. They both got out of the car and quickly made their way up to Methos' apartment. Once inside, she stepped out of her heels with a sigh. He watched her amusedly as she wiggled her toes on the floor.
"Drink?" he asked, after he had hung up his coat. She was aware that after their serious talk back in the car they were back to flirting again, which was alright with her. So he wanted to play it smooth, just like he had started it out back at Joe's. Apparently his technique was all about the build-up. She had never seen his moves before, so she was curious about them and decided to play along. After all it was rather amusing. This was exciting and new. They had never been on a proper date. Well, not intentionally so. Their meetings had always been either coincidental or casual.
"Okay," Liz finally said with a smile and watched him walk off to the kitchen seconds later, which left her to her own devices. She entered the living room and because there was nothing else to keep her busy, she walked over to the stereo and his music collection which consisted of vinyl records, tapes and CDs. He had everything, save for classical music. At some point she would have to ask him about that. It seemed curious.
She detected a certain preference for jazz and blues, but also for contemporary music. Her index finger that had previously been tracing the CDs stashed in the shelf came to rest on one in particular. It was an album she owned herself. She opened it and inserted the CD into the stereo. Her index finger pressed the forward button a couple of times until she had reached her favourite song.
She closed her eyes and started swaying to the song. It was 'Love Song' by the Cure. The beat was a bit faster than one would have expected from a romantic song, but it was just what she liked about the song: the combination of the melody and the melancholic voice of the singer, the guitar part that came in the middle... She collided with something soft and solid and opened her eyes.
Methos was standing in front of her with a smile. It was not teasing in any way. Maybe he had figured out that it was a huge sign of trust from her side that she was actually feeling that comfortable inside his apartment to let down her barriers. He held out his hand to her invitingly. She just gave him a perplexed stare.
"Didn't you say earlier that you wanted to dance?" he asked, grasping her fingers in his. He slowly pulled her into his arms.
As a young girl she had always believed the way a man lead while dancing said something about his character. Back in the day dancing had played a much bigger role in social life. Balls had been the highlight of the season, if not the year and a quick dance, as it was often the only time it was socially acceptable for a man and a woman to touch each other in public, would sometimes have to suffice to determine whether a couple had chemistry or not. There were man who barely touched their dancing partner and others who were quite the opposite, somewhat brusque and forceful. He was somewhere in between which was a good thing in her book. If she had been a more romantic person she would have even been inclined to say just right.
For a moment they swayed on the spot, apparently he really hadn't danced in quite some time and he needed to get used to the idea first, then they started spinning in time with the music – a bit like a fast waltz. She laughed delightedly and leaned back into his arms. The room was a blur of colours around them and her head was spinning. The eventually slowed down again and she held on tight to him, feeling dizzy and somewhat giddy at the same time. "The most appropriate song you could have possibly chosen," he whispered in her ear.
Robert Smith had just sung "Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am young again" and therefore his comment made her laugh even more. They were slow dancing now, her arms were around his neck, his around her midriff. It didn't fit the song, but it fit their mood.
"So you can dance after all," she remarked finally. "What else have you got up your sleeve, Old Man?" The way she teasingly enunciated each syllable of that nickname had something almost challenging about it.
"It would spoil all the fun if I told you now," he replied simply. He repositioned his hand that had been resting on her lower back only by a few centimetres, but that little gesture alone had a tremendous effect thanks to the halter neck dress. Because now that they had moved upward, the fabric of the dress didn't dilute the sensation of his touch anymore. His hand lay on her bare back and made her shiver pleasantly.
"Are you trying your moves on me?" her voice was close to an amused purr.
"Moves?" he scoffed disdainfully while his dark eyes sparkled enticingly. "I've never had any. Probably because I've never needed them"
"Sure," she raised her left eyebrow ironically. "I don't have any either." He actually laughed softly at that.
They had already danced through two songs and "Lullaby" came on. It didn't lend itself particularly to slow dancing. He took a step away from her, but didn't let go of her hand. Her eyes landed on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He had poured them two glasses of white wine. He led her over to the couch and they sat down. She pulled up her knees and rested her head on the nook of his shoulder with a content sigh. The fabric of his sweater was soft against her cheek and it smelled of him.
His fingers brushed her rip cage, then settled somewhere achingly close to the underside of her breasts. The warmth of his touch started seeping through the fabric of her dress. He kissed the crown of her head. His fingers started moving up and down and her heart rate sped up.
"I like your dress," he said finally. His voice sort of mellow and relaxed. It was pleasant and quite personal hearing it so close to her ears.
"Thank you," she smiled, aware that he couldn't see her face.
"In fact I've been thinking about you and your little dress all evening..."
At that she sat up straight, now actually looked at him. "Surely it's not that spectacular..."
"It is," he told her softly and reached out his hand. He let it trace from her shoulder all the way up to her neck where the fabric that held it in place was tied together by a simple knot. He let his fingers rest there, which made her shiver. She reached behind her neck to gently clasp his hand and guide it down to her lap so he wouldn't be able to untie the knot. Not yet anyway.
"I thought that you would like that detail about the dress."
"Yes," he smiled and scooted closer to her. "You're like a gift. Someone's bound to have to unwrap you at some point of this evening." He leaned in and kissed her gently. The kiss was soft and lingering and even though there was no tongue involved, rather sensual. His lips teased hers. What started out as butterfly like, fleeting touches and eventually built up to passionate and lingering pressure. She sighed against his mouth, granting him entry.
She only noticed that his hands had deftly untied the knot behind her neck when the fabric of the dress slipped down her upper body. She broke the kiss and looked down at herself with a raised eyebrow as if she wanted to say 'Oh, well!'. He was smirking like he wanted to congratulate himself on a job well done. Liz gave him a good-natured shove which made him fall back on the couch. Finally she stood up and let the dress glide down the rest of her body. He watched her the whole time.
He was lying there in the tub with his eyes closed. His left arm on the rim, the other hanging down lazily.
A wave of affection flooded her as she watched him from her position behind the tub. Only wrapped in her dressing gown she crept closer and finally sat down on the edge of the bathtub to watch him silently.
"Yes. How may I help you?" he said suddenly. His eyes were still closed and there was a crooked half-smile on his lips now. His voice was echoing slightly from the tiled walls of the bathroom.
She smiled as well as she dipped her fingers into the warm bath water. "Can I get in?"
Upon hearing that he opened his eyes. "I don't know... It's going to get pretty crowded in here." The sentence was meant to bemoan the lack of space in the bathtub, but she could detect an undercurrent of teasing amusement in it which she took as an unspoken invitation to join him.
"Tough. Anything I can do to convince you?" She dropped to her knees so that her face was level with his. When it came to faces his was one of her favourite ones in all the world. The longer she knew him the more handsome she found him to be, which was quite paradoxical because she had started out thinking him to be a rather ordinary looking guy. It was probably the expressiveness of his features, the subtly and immense meaningfulness he was able to give to a smile or frown that attracted her to him.
"Let me think about that...," he said grinning mischievously. Her heart did a little leap as she watch the grin materialise on his face. She reached out and ran her fingers along his temples and finally through his wet hair. He leaned into her touch much like a cat. "How about a nice back rub?" he suggested finally.
She grinned. "You're so easy."
"Sure, when a beautiful, scarcely clad woman suggests climbing in a bathtub with you, you should try to make things as easy as possible," he told her with a smirk. She got up. As she walked behind him, she let her index finger trace all the way from his wrist up to his shoulder.
"Scoot," she whispered in his ear, before she casually dropped the rope and climbed into the tub behind him. It needed a bit of adjusting, but they were able to fit into the small space together. He was leaning against her chest with his back, her arms now resting on top of his.
"Not bad," he said. His words were followed by a content sigh.
"Not bad," she conceded as well.
They both stayed silently for a while. The only sound was the occasional dribbling of water when she moved her arms to stroke his hair and his hum of approval that accompanied that action.
But as always she was not one to just quietly enjoy doing nothing. "Come on, let's play a little game," she whispered in his ear, her voice filled with warmth and mellowness. "I was always wondering what language you spoke when you were a little boy..."
"Why? Where is the fun in that?" He had his eyes closed again, enjoying the feeling of her fingers stroking his hair.
"Just humour me... You could teach me..."
"It's ancient Egyptian. It's not like you can speak it with anyone except me." His protest was weak at best. Thanks to that she could tell he found the idea at least somewhat appealing.
"Exactly. Just imagine the possibilities. We could slag off about other people endlessly." He hadn't agreed yet, so she tried to come up with more arguments to tip the scales in her favour. "We could flirt outrageously in public."
"You always do that," he pointed out.
She laughed softly and without any spite. "I know how 'shy' you are," she quipped ironically, kissing his cheek. "You could finally reciprocate."
He let out a long drawn sigh and took her hand in his, entwining their wet fingers tightly. "بلى," he said finally.
"Does that mean 'yes'?" she asked hesitantly. He nodded and she tried to repeat what he had said. He did not seem to like the way she pronounced the word judging by the way he disapprovingly shook his head. She tried it again and was rewarded with a smile he quickly threw her over his shoulder.
"Okay, now teach me how to say this," she waved her hand in front of his face and he caught it with his own, stopping her movement effectively.
"إي" he enunciated slowly and carefully. She followed his example and got it right the first time around. "That was easy," she commented. He only smirked at that.
She pointed at the tip of his nose. "مناخِير" he said.
"Oh! that sounds tricky," she wrinkled her forehead in concentration and tried pronouncing the difficult word. Her troubles were rewarded with an amused chuckle, at which she snipped her index finger at the water surface, splashing his face in the process. He held up his hands in defeat. After all she couldn't see his face because he was sitting with his back to her.
"I want to try again," she proclaimed, sounding a bit like a stubborn child. He humoured her. This time, after he had slowly said the word again, enunciating each syllable precisely and clearly for her benefit, she was able to pronounce it correctly. Time for a new challenge.
"قلْ," he took one of her hands placed it over his chest. His skin was wet and warm under her palm and she could feel the regular and reassuring beating of his heart underneath it. "What's that? Heart?" He nodded as an answer to her question.
The word seemed difficult, especially the very foreign, almost hissing sound at its beginning. How was she supposed to get it right? She tried her very best and apparently failed miserably, because he was laughing softly by the time the word had left her lips.
"قلْ," he said again. And she repeated. To her his pronunciation and hers sounded the same. Identical. But he was laughing even more now. Apparently she still hadn't gotten it right.
"I don't get it. I haven't done anything wrong, have I?" she was slightly pouting by this point.
"Sorry, but you have," he said, his frame still shaking slightly with laughter. "You've just said dog."
"Dog?"
"Heart and dog are very similar in pronunciation," he shrugged. "Just don't try saying anything poetic like 'I give you my heart' and you should be fine for now." The mirth in his voice was irritating her immensely. Sometimes he was just too cocky for his own good.
"You're a terrible teacher," she scolded him.
"I'm not," he said, his voice full of mock indignation.
"You are," Liz reassured him once more.
"أحبك" he said as a means to end the argument.
"Sure. Go ahead and say things in an ancient language to settle an argument. That's cheating!"
"It's not. Why don't you repeat it?" he suggested.
"That would mean I'd have to trust you that it's not something stupid like 'Methos is always right'...," at the last words she dropped her voice an octave in a rather bad imitation of his voice.
"I am always right," the self-ironic grin was clearly audible in his statement. Nevertheless she resented him for it just a tiny bit.
"Always right? Yeah, sure," she scoffed. "I'll tell you what you are. You're a pain in the arse, a proper know-it-all, if you have to know," she replied grumpily.
"Well, my obnoxious personality must have something appealing to it or else you wouldn't be sitting in this bathtub now."
"Oh, really? Are you so sure about that?"Liz teased. He turned around to look at her sharply over his shoulder. Thanks to his abrupt movement the bath water was momentarily threatening to spill over the rim of the tub. A lesser woman would have hesitated to say the next words. But she knew for a fact those dark warning glances of his were only a facade. The left corner of his mouth was twitching deceptively. He was seconds away from a grin, maybe even a proper laugh. "Actually I'm only in this relationship because of your rather shapely bum. It pains me to say it, but I'm just superficial that way."
"I can't believe you've just said this!" he was probably aiming for reproachful, but his words came out with a rather amused twinge to them. It was clear he found her rather endearing instead of outrageous. Maybe even a bit of both.
"Oh, you won't believe all the things I could say. I could make you blush all the way to your toes, you sexy thing you," her grin was teasing and remarkably Cheshire Cat like.
It fell immediately at his next words. "Why don't you start by repeating this: أحبك," he suggested.
"Why is it that important to you?"
"Do you trust me?" he asked simply
"Yes," she said quietly. It had taken them quite some time to end up at this point where the difficult question of trust could be answered with a simple 'yes' spoken without hesitation. He was apparently all too aware of that because he reached for her hand and gave it a soft squeeze of encouragement.
"Will you laugh at me if I get it wrong?" Liz finally asked almost timidly. With her admission she had shed her last defence-mechanism, at least for the time being. Now they were truly two naked people in a bathtub, both in a literal and figurative sense of the word.
"Never. You won't get it wrong," he reassured her. "So أحبك?"
She nodded with a smile and repeated the difficult string of sounds trying her best not to mess up. Afterwards, because she couldn't wait for his verbal response to her performance, she risked a glance at his profile. Sitting like that she could only see the right half of his face. He was smiling softly.
"So did I get it right? What does that mean?" Liz instantly wanted to know. "You are a daft cow for trying to learn my language?"
He raised her by now wrinkly fingertips to his mouth and kissed each one affectionately. "Nothing of the sort," his lips gently caressed her thumb. "By the way," they closed around the tip of her index fingers, "you do have," his mouth punctuated the word 'do' by kissing the tip of the next finger, "a very bad image of me," her ring finger was next, "in that pretty little head of yours," she could actually feel his teeth graze the fingertip of her pinky ever so slightly.
"I wonder how that could have happened," she said in mock scandal, her voice sounding sort of breathy thanks to what he had done to the fingers of her right hand just now.
"I swear, I wasn't being mean this time," he assured her.
"In this case..." She laid her hands on his shoulders and traced their outline. They were muscular and wet. The water let her fingers glide smoothly over his skin. Back and forth. Back and forth. Droplets were running down his back. Her hands finally came to settle on his neck. Her thumbs applied soft pressure on both sides of it as they repeatedly stroked down the length of his neck. He slightly bent his head forward and let out a content sigh.
She smiled and pulled him closer against her, wrapping her arms around his upper body possessively. "I'm onto you. I know what it means," she whispered in his ear.
He laughed softly, the sound echoing pleasantly from the walls of the bathroom. "I'm scared already," he admitted teasingly.
"Don't be. And you don't have to trick me into telling you that I love you." She kissed his cheek for emphasis. "I'm quite ready to say it on my own." Her right hand that was positioned directly over his heart could feel it speed up underneath her palm. He turned his head and kissed the corner of her mouth somewhat sloppily, which was due to their lying position.
"Who says that that's what it meant?"
"You and your racing heart, love," she told him softly, her voice very close to his ear.
He just shrugged, taking her statement in stride. "As the poets say. The heart doesn't lie."
"Have you seen my bloody earrings?" Liz called out to him, where she quite inevitably breezed into the bedroom. She found him fidgeting around in his tuxedo in front of the mirror, which made her momentarily give up her quest for her lost earrings in favour of teasing him.
She was smiling when she stepped behind him. Partly because he was still mumbling to himself that this was a very, very bad idea and it was extremely stupid to play along with it, even it meant upholding his part of the wager. After all it involved socializing. The other reason which had her smile was his reflection in the mirror. It made her ask herself why formal wear wasn't an official requirement for the male part of the species. He made Brosnan's Bond look like a cocktail waiter in comparison. Well, at least according to her. Playfully and not without taking a certain childish pride in the fact that he was hers, she swatted him on his bum and threw him a grin in the mirror.
"I say, you do clean up rather nicely, love," she told him, eyeing him and his little tux appreciatively. One small, minuscule thing was amiss about the picture though, his bow-tie was sort of lop-sided, probably because he hadn't worn one in a rather long time. She stepped in front of him to adjust it. He gave her a stern look which she took in stride as if it was nothing and in reaction to it, even batted her long eyelashes at him in a rather flirtatious way.
"Remind me why I agreed to do this again. I have some slight, really rather minor trouble wrapping my mind around the idea of me actually doing something that foolish...," he said trying to swat away her helping hands. He really was quite prickly today.
"You lost a bet," she informed him matter-of-factly at which he grimaced and tried again to swat her hands away. She inclined her head to the left and threw him a pointed look. "Now will you quit doing that? I'm only trying to help. It's your bow-tie. It's lopsided," she said in a nonplussed tone of voice and he finally relented with a dramatic sigh.
Of course, he would only begrudgingly agree to a plan as asinine as this one. But whether he upheld his part of the bet was not only a question of honour, it was also a test to their still rather new relationship. Now she knew for a fact that she needn't appeal to his sense of honour, he was not sentimental or nostalgic like that, but to his feelings for her, which was admittedly a rather low blow, but she wasn't one to play fair. If he still had trouble accepting her for who she was, he could just sod off. Well, she rather he didn't sod off. Actually she never wanted that to happen, but he claimed he loved her and if he truly did, he would have to stop complaining at some point and accept things for what they were. After all she greatly enjoyed exposing herself to calculated risks like that. It was exhilarating. And maybe, just maybe, he would eventually come to enjoy himself too.
"So you are still having trouble understanding why you have to come?" she said softly, her eyes narrowed in concentration while she tugged at the bow-tie. It was finally straight and she nodded in approval at her work. "It's because Amanda's asked me for my help. And you don't want my best friend to end up in jail for the rest of all eternity, do you?"
He just looked at her pointedly. Upon hearing her question, she could see glee and hopefulness dancing in his dark eyes. With a frustrated huff she held up her index finger at him admonishingly. "No, wait, actually don't answer that! In spite of you fake dislike for Amanda, we both know that you find her vaguely amusing, even though you don't like to admit it. Could you maybe for a second stop to think of my happiness? Amanda being left to rot in jail would most certainly not make me very happy."
"Think of your happiness? Right now?" he gave her an appraising look before he answered, letting his eyes run all the way down from her head to her toes, taking in her figure hugging burgundy red dress that accentuated her slim waist and pale skin as a rather pleasant, but annoying side-note. Annoying because it made saying 'no' to her that much harder. He really should say 'no', but up until now he hadn't come around to it yet. It turned out he couldn't. So he took refuge in sarcasm. He was quite good at sarcasm and it was rather comforting. "No offence, Liz, right now I'm more worried about me being happy for once."
She made a disapproving face at him. "Are you telling me you're going to forfeit your part of the bet?"
"How about we renegotiate?" he proposed. "You're aware you're asking quite a lot here. Let's recap the situation for a moment..." Apparently thinking of what she had planned, was already enough to make him frown at her disapprovingly. She let it slide for now and just listened calmly as he continued. "You want me to put on some penguin suit, go to some yacht, mingle with the party-goers and chat up one of the hosts so he is distracted. In the meantime you're going to flirt with the other one, which will allow Amanda to work her mojo, break into their office and delete all the surveillance footage they have on her that shows her robbing their vault..." She vigorously nodded as he rattled off each of those items of his mental list, but when finally a rather malicious grin appeared on his face, she froze mid-nod and regarded him alertly to see what would come next. "Sorry, to say but that sounds less than appealing. In all honesty, I'd rather clean McLeod's dojo with a toothbrush than subject myself to that sort of evening."
"What do you want, Methos?" Her eyes were narrowed and the lack of endearment at the end of her question was a warning in itself. As always he chose not to heed such subtle hints and just breezed on.
"I want a lot of things actually. World peace, cosmic harmony and come to think of it, endless riches would be good too...," he said stepping away from the mirror picking up his cufflinks from the dresser next to the bed.
"Do I look like a freaking jinni? Just spit it out already!" she growled at his back in a rather unladylike way. She would kill for a smoke right now, in fact she was seconds away from rummaging through the drawers of said dresser, looking for a cigar. That was how irritating he was to her right now.
He briefly looked over his shoulder to wink at her with a sly smile. "A jinni? There's a thought. Not as of right now, but I'm sure that can be arranged..." She muttered something unintelligible at his comment which suspiciously sounded like a German swear word. He merely raised an eyebrow at her antics before he turned around and focused his attention on adjusting his cufflinks again with that annoyingly serene air about him he had doubtlessly adopted just to get under her skin. "Here's the deal: You're not allowed to tell a single lie in my presence for the entire next week."
Unbeknownst to him a grin started spreading on her face and she already raised her index finger to make some clever comment or maybe to object in anyway, but he didn't let her get that far.
Now with his cufflinks in place, he whirled around, walking up to her with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, both because he had succeeded in his task and also because he was going to anticipate her next words. "And no, you're not allowed to spend the next week in complete and utter silence..." He bowed down slightly to kiss her cheek and possibly annoy her further by doing so, at which he succeeded flawlessly judging by the way she was shooting daggers at him with her eyes.
"Alright," she let out a long suffering sigh. "But I bet part of the reason why you're being this difficult is because Amanda told us we have to pretend like we're brother and sister for tonight, instead of a couple." She held out her hand to him with an air of resignation surrounding her. "Let's shake on it then..."
He looked at her hand as if it were something offensive and brushed it out of the way. "Those kind of deals are usually sealed with a kiss..."
"Believe me, kissing you is the last thing on my mind right now," she hissed at him before she turned around to stalk off, muttering something about some earrings she was looking for and having a difficult time finding. She only managed to take one step away from him before his hand caught her wrist. With a growl of frustration she let him pull her back against his body. His hands ran down her shoulders, his face was nuzzling her hair and her resolve was slowly grumbling.
"Either you kiss me now or I'll be quite obvious about my less than brotherly affection towards you at the party. In fact I'll make the Borgias look like a bunch of choir boys," Liz could hear the teasing note in his voice loud and clear, especially when it was that close to her ear and sent shivers down her spine. She whirled around, now standing very close to him, her eyes sparkling both with excitement and a tiny bit of residual resentment.
"You wouldn't dare...," she challenged him.
"I wouldn't?" His left eyebrow arched delicately and the expression on his face made her either want to drag him off to the bedroom or slap him, she wasn't quite clear on the last part yet.
"You would," she finally concluded and before he could react, she pressed a quick peck to his cheek. "There. Sealed with a kiss," she grinned at him when she drew back.
He grinned a grin of his own back at her, but it was less filled with mirth. As a matter of fact it was quite devious. "Not a proper one. By the end of tonight I'll have you begging me for a proper kiss."
"You wish," she told him and breezed out of the bedroom again to leave him standing there with a bemused expression on his face. After a second had passed, he shook his head and followed her. When he entered the living-room, he heard a loud 'ha!'. Apparently she had found her earrings, on the coffee table of all places. Who left expensive diamond chandeliers lying on a coffee table? She did apparently.
His musings were interrupted by the Buzz and a sharp rap at the door to her hotel suite. Apparently Amanda had arrived.
Liz opened the door with flourish which revealed a rather smugly grinning Amanda, leaning against the door frame with the air of a cat that just swallowed not a single canary but a whole flock of them. She was dressed uncharacteristically demurely, in a pair of black slacks and a white shirt which would allow her to blend in seamlessly with the catering staff on board of the yacht.
"If it isn't Bonnie and Clyde!" she drawled in an excited tone of voice that made Methos want to grate his teeth in frustration.