Daisy, Daisy

by Margaret

13th May 2000

Disclaimer: Not mine R:P/D have that somewhat dubious honour. I make no profit and mean no harm.

Rated: Rated: PG-13 for implied m/m relationship

Warning: Slash

Pairing: Duncan/Methos

Notes: Came to me one sunny afternoon surprisingly enough - just a little fluffy snippet. The title is taken from the rhyme - Daisy, daisy/Give me your answer do/I'm half crazy/All for the love of you :-)

Summary: Nothing much of anything happens on a sunny afternoon.

"You're seriously telling me you've never done this before?" Methos' voice was too relaxed to be properly incredulous.

Lying on his back on the blanket, soaking up the bright afternoon sunshine, Duncan turned his head to look at his lover. The Ancient Immortal sat cross-legged next to him and had spoken without looking up, apparently concentrating on his chosen activity. Duncan watched as the long fingers deftly wove the small flowers together, the chain growing with each new flower selected from his carefully gathered collection. Evidence of the old Immortal's handiwork already existed as a white and gold crown that perched precariously on the short spikes of his hair.

The idea of a 5,000 year old Immortal sitting cross-legged in the sun wearing a daisy crown and making another should have been ridiculous, but somehow it wasn't. Wherever he went, whatever he did, somehow Methos always managed to seem perfectly natural, as though he belonged; it was an ability the Highlander envied in his lover. Right now the man looked incredibly young, as though the shadows that so often haunted his eyes had been chased away by the bright summer sun.

"No," Duncan replied with a smile as he let his head fall back onto the pillow of his arms. "Never had any reason to - I can't imagine why you did."

Methos tilted his head to regard his lover with a fond look, "Kids, Mac - daughters." He tilted his head back to look up at the few fluffy white clouds that floated lazily overhead. "And lovers too," he added thoughtfully before turning to look at the Highlander again. "You've never just sat out on the grass in the sun with a lover?"

"Of course I have; I'm here with you aren't I," Duncan tried his best to sound affronted and Methos smiled. "Point taken."

"I just never had a reason to learn how to make daisy chains," he continued. "It surprised me that you knew how, that's all - I mean, it's not exactly a survival technique."

Methos smiled, but didn't respond and Duncan watched as the Ancient put the finishing touches to his second daisy crown. Something the old man had said came back to him. "Daughters?" he inquired, "How many?"

Methos looked up from his work again, "Nine. And seven sons," he added and then paused. "You've never had any have you?"

Duncan shook his head silently, a little stunned by this revelation. He tried to picture his often cynical friend in his crown of flowers as a father; it wasn't nearly as difficult as he'd thought it would be. "How?"

Methos grinned, "Bit old to be needing lessons on the birds and the bees aren't you?" Then his smile softened with fond memories and he answered the question anyway. "Adopted, arranged or I married their mother," a hint of a fierce pride touched his expression, tempered by a terrible wistful sadness, "they were still mine though."

Duncan took his hand from behind his head and placed it on his lover's knee, offering to share the sorrow of outliving your loved ones. But Methos just gave him a fond smile and promptly crowned him with the daisy chain; it was not an evasion or a secret, just a subject for another time. Duncan let himself return the smile and accepted that it was not something his lover wished to talk about yet.

It was wonderful to see Methos this relaxed. Away from the need for masks and the threat of other Immortals the Eldest of them all could be beautifully young and Duncan was more than happy to put up with his lover's playfulness in return for these unshuttered glimpses of the real Methos.

"You're being uncharacteristically open today," he observed with a brief smile to take the sting from his words.

Methos turned to him with a grin, not the least offended, "How do you know it's not all just a pack of lies?" he countered.

Duncan smiled indulgently, he knew the answer to this one, "Because you love me." The only word he could think of to describe Methos' grin then was delighted.

The Eldest brushed the remains of several hapless daisies from his lap, "Sure of that are you?" he asked archly.

Duncan grinned, "Absolutely," he replied with utter conviction.

Methos returned his grin, "Good," he pronounced and with a quick shift he unfolded his long legs and straddled the Highlander's hips, still smiling. The sudden contact with his lover sparked Duncan's interest and caused a warmth to blossom within him that had nothing whatsoever to do with the bright sun.

"This is a public park, *Adam*," Duncan emphasised his lover's alias deliberately to make his point, although he had to admit that he didn't really want to lose this relaxed closeness.

"I know, *Duncan*," Methos grinned back, knowing full well what his rare use of the Highlander's given name would do to his lover. Duncan growled at the grinning Ancient, inexplicably pleased when Methos began to rock gently against him and he felt the heat of his lover's arousal press tight against his own rapidly growing erection.

The hell with it! Duncan quickly reached both hands up to his lover's broad shoulders and pulled him abruptly down into a hungry kiss. Methos made no objection to the Highlander's manhandling of him and instead melted into the kiss, soothing the hunger without lessening the intensity. The kiss was soft and sweet, like the ice cream they had shared earlier, and Duncan could feel his Quickening tangle intimately with the Ancient's - a sharing of souls neither of them had dared hope for; he could lose himself in this, he really could.

A child's shriek of laughter drifted up the hillside on the wind, pulling them back to themselves and reminding them of the world that still turned around them. With evident reluctance Methos straightened, looking around to see if anyone had noticed them, and Duncan let his hands slide down his lover's body to rest at the narrow hips. If anyone had noticed them, they hadn't cared enough to do anything about it and the peace remained undisturbed as it often does in the pleasant inertia of a warm, sunny afternoon.

Methos' expression was still open when his eyes met Duncan's once more and the Highlander found himself smiling in relief and pleasure. His smile deepened when the sparkle in those marvellous eyes became ever so slightly wicked.

"I want you," the words drifted on the warm air, soft and sincere, as Methos rocked gently against him - not so much a tease as a simple demonstration of desire. Pleasant as the sensation was, it wasn't enough to dislodge the unwelcome awareness of their surroundings from Duncan's mind. They could, and almost certainly would, be interrupted if they continued this here and then Methos would retreat behind 'Adam' and the myriad other fictions he used to protect himself. Today had been perfect and there was no way Duncan would allow it to be spoiled now.

"I think," Duncan suggested quietly, "that we should take this back to the loft."

Methos pouted and Duncan couldn't help chuckling at the Ancient's shameless appropriation of the Highlander's own favourite tactic. The sound only made Methos try harder although the wicked gleam in his eyes belied the expression. Daisy crown still in place the Ancient contrived to look all of five years old and Duncan found himself laughing again for no other reason than that he was happy.

"I love you," he grinned as the laughter faded and was unprepared for the serious look that drifted across the green/gold eyes blocking out the playful light like a cloud eclipsing the sun.

"Do you?" Methos asked. His voice, soft and serious, seemed merely another current in the warm air and not really words at all.

"Yes," Duncan found himself replying with all the honesty Methos claimed to love him for plain in his eyes.

There was a brief moment, looking into his lover's changeable eyes, when Duncan was sure the old man would flee - hide behind the barriers he had spent so long crafting. But then it was gone as if had never been, like a shadow against the sun.

"Good," Methos murmured and he leaned in for another kiss, as soft and sweet as the first. Duncan slid his hands around his lover's back, feeling the strength beneath his fingertips and the strange vulnerability he had been entrusted with. As he felt his Quickening again reach out for and touch his lover's, he found himself repeating the vow he had made months ago - to love and protect this precious man that had so changed his life.

When they slowly parted Duncan's attention was dragged forcibly away from his lover's mouth to where his erection strained against denim and the unmistakable hardness behind his lover's own jeans. He groaned faintly as Methos stood; to hell with public decency laws, he didn't want to lose his lover's touch.

Methos towered over him and spoke with a smirk and the air of a king conferring a favour, "You may take me back to the loft now."

Duncan was on his feet and moving before Methos had finished speaking, heading down the hill with most unseemly haste. Skewed daisy crown on his head, blanket in one hand and dragging his lover along behind him, Duncan suspected he looked more than a little ridiculous, but as Methos' unrestrained laughter rang out in the bright afternoon air, he realised he would never have it any other way.



Font size