Disclaimer: I got them for Christmas, really. Got up and found them in my stocking.
A Safe-House fic starring Clark and Lex from Smallville, Methos from
Highlander, Methos' toes, and Strife from Hercules\Xena.
Lizzi (great and wonderful) beta'd this.
"Shh, quiet," Lex admonished.
"Sorry, that trashcan jumped out at me."
"We can't make mischief if you wake the victim up."
"Why are we doing this again?" Clark asked.
"Because my father wants me to be evil. This was the best I could come up
"This is evil?"
"Hot bimbo pink?"
Clark digested that for a moment. "Okay, but why am I here?"
"Ah, see, that's what makes it truly evil." Lex grinned. "I'm corrupting
"I can think of a lot of better ways you can corrupt me. I've got a ton of
them in my head right now."
"Hold that thought." Carefully, Lex pealed back the bottom of Methos'
blanket. There were his targets, Methos' long, cute toes. Lex had to
admit that the ancient man had rather nice feet, well manicured and
everything. "Polish?" Clark handed over the hot pink nail polish
silently. "Now, hold his feet steady and don't wake him!"
Clark brushed his hands over the soles of Methos feet and got a kick in the
nose for his troubles.
"I said not to wake him," Lex hissed.
"He must be ticklish."
"Well then hold his ankles." Clark took Methos' ankles in his hands,
careful not to tickle the older man again. Very carefully, Lex painted
"Now, blow on his toes."
"Blow on them." Lex demonstrated, blowing puffs of air softly over Methos'
left foot. "The polish still has to dry. Clark, you don't have to suck
them, just blow."
"That sounds really dirty out of context."
Clark got to work. "Is it dry?" he asked after three short breaths.
"Of course it's not dry yet. Blow more."
"Why didn't you get the quick drying kind?"
"Because I, unlike you, am not an authority on nailpolish."
"I don't use it, my mom does."
"Have you talked to anyone yet about this mamma's boy complex of yours?"
Clark stuck out his tongue at his boyfriend. Suddenly the ankle under his
hand moved. "Shit," he squeaked.
"Let go! Let go!"
Clark yanked his hands back so hard he fell backwards onto the floor.
Apparently still sleeping off his beer induced stupor, Methos simply turned
over instead of waking up. Clark had never been so thankful for beer
before, being that he, himself didn't drink. "Ya know," he told Lex, "I
hope it was dry, because if it wasn't, we're out of luck now."
Lex carefully pulled the blanket back down over Methos' feet, "We can't
worry about it now. Let's go back to your bed and see how much more
corrupting we can do tonight."
"Oh, lots and lots."
"I'm counting on it."
The Next Morning...
The godling giggled even as he edged his way into Methos' room. "Yeah?"
"Recognize these?" Methos asked, wiggling his pink toes.
Strife giggled nervously. He was unsure if he should take credit for what
was obviously an awesome prank or deny all culpability thus, hopefully,
keeping himself off kitchen duty. "Nice color," he managed, stalling for
"You couldn't have picked orange? I could have lived with orange."
"Uh, well see..." Strife decided that even if he had done it, he would
have denied responsibility. "I didn't do it."
"Of course not, you're never guilty, are you?"
"Kitchen duty for a month and get this shit off my toes!"
"You heard me."
Grumbling, Strife grabbed the nail polish remover from the bathroom and a
paper towel. Kneeling in front of the old man, Strife diligently began
taking the polish off. "It looks good, you know."
"Take it all off."
"You're sure you don't want to keep it?"
"I never paint toes this neatly. You know it wasn't me."
Methos smiled. "Yes, but you look so nice kneeling there."
"Oh." Strife giggled and went back to work.