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Lessons of History (or: It Takes a Big Worm to Catch a Big Fish)
by Diana DeShaun and Lisa, Duncan's Twin
“ZendAvesta are the sacred writing of the...”
“Zoroastrian religion, I know too well,” Duncan interrupted.
“You don’t have to be so smug about it, Highlander.”
“You don’t have to always assume that just because I’m younger than you, I know less than you.”
“Xerxes,” Methos said, continuing as if Duncan hadn’t spoken, “was the King of Persia from 486 to 465, and he hated foreigners.”
“Xenophobic?” Duncan asked curiously.
“Well, I suppose you could call it that,” Methos said vaguely, piquing the younger man’s interest even more.
“What would you call it?” Duncan asked, taking the initiative.
“Valetudinarianism,” Methos stated, and then explained further. “Very obsessed with his health and he worried that foreigners, travelers spread disease.”
“Usually in those days they did,” Duncan stated simply.
“Unprofitable was what it was. Travelers brought in money, just like they do today,” Methos said dryly.
“True enough,” Duncan agreed, returning from the fridge with another round of beer. “Speaking of which, you want to take a trip after the semester is over?”
“Sure, where to?”
“Rio? Rome? Quebec?” Duncan suggested.
“Quiet, I’m thinking.”
“Paris?”
“Paris again?” Methos sighed.
“Okay, you name somewhere.”
“Oklahoma!”
“No!”
“No?”
“Methos...”
“Make up your mind, Mac, since even you can’t have it both ways.”
“Last night I did,” Duncan said saucily.
"Learn anything new?"
"Kippers and sex don't mix?"
"Killing you is always an option, MacLeod," Methos growled.
"Just trying to divert you from making a big mistake, old man."
"Judging from last night's little 'fisherman's delight', you're a fine one to talk."
"I never expected you to take the 'Moby Dick' reference so literally."
"I'll have you know, I was a pearl diver in a previous life."
"Hunting pearls is not what you were doing down there..."
"Have harpoon, will travel."
"Guess you speared a big one, huh?” Mac asked smugly.
"Guppies, groupers, and you..."
"Fuck you, Methos."
"Fishing for compliments will filet you every time, Highlander."
"Enough with the fish analogies already!" Mac groaned.
"Even if I'm suddenly feeling hungry for a great big juicy...fish stick?"
"Depends on whether you're gonna provide the tartar sauce," Duncan purred.
"Damn right, I'll provide the tartar sauce. Come here, Duncan.”
"Can we go to Paris?" Duncan asked hopefully, moving into Methos’ arms.
"But MacLeod..." Methos practically whined.
"Big hats on cowboys or big beds on barges?" Duncan asked, nibbling on the sensitive skin of Methos’ neck.
"Au revoir, Oklahoma," Methos declared, his hands saying bonjour to Duncan’s hard body again.
“As you were saying, Ahab, about that harpoon...”
~~end~~