This came to me while I was pouring cereal for my dinner. Don't ask.

Methos and Duncan belong to someone else, they just came over to play with my mind.

Don't know why I wrote it, but here it is for your pleasure or displeasure. It's a light-hearted piece.




by Katie Grogan


Duncan looked on with annoyance at his houseguest still sleeping on his couch. It was eight o'clock already, was he planning on sleeping all day? A bit of mischief slipped into his smile. It would be rude to wake a guest like this, but Methos wasn't an ordinary guest. He crept over to the couch, stood at it's back, got a good grip on it, the pushed it over, spilling Methos onto the hardwood floor.

"Wakey wakey, Methos." Methos, who tended to relax when sleeping at Mac's since the Highlander would protect him, woke enough to be sure there was no threat, fix the covers, and shoot MacLeod and evil eye. Then he fell asleep again. Unwilling to admit defeat just yet, Duncan righted the couch and grabbed the blankets. That was rewarded with a grumble but no signs of consciousness. 'I wonder.' Methos was sleeping in boxers and a thin T-shirt, so Duncan reached out and tickled him.

"Mac!" he yelled, waking up under assault. 'Yep, he's ticklish.'

"Good, you're up. Now I can have my couch back."

"Gods, what's gotten into you?" Methos grumbled on his way to the bathroom, stopping to get some clean clothes. He had no problems pulling pranks like that, but hated it when he was the target. "Throw me to the floor, freeze me to death," the rest cut off when the door slammed shut.

MacLeod chuckled as he folded and put away the blankets. He'd wanted to do that for so long. Every once in a while Methos showed up and commandeered his couch for a few days. It didn't matter if it was Paris or Seacouver, whenever he needed a place for a time and didn't want a hotel. Of course, since he never wanted a hotel, especially since he had returned to the Watchers as Adam Pierson, it made him a frequent guest. He would show up, sleep in late, and MacLeod would feel obligated to keep quiet so that he wouldn't wake him up. At first, this was impossible. A little movement was all it took to rouse his paranoid friend. Now the old man was so used to him, he slept in a nearly comatose state. The trust was touching, but annoying.

Methos emerged from the bath, toweling his hair dry and still muttering. "MacLeod, why on earth did you feel the need to wake me now?" he asked aloud.

"Methos, it's already eight."

"Precisely, it's only eight. I didn't get in until after two this morning and wrote in my journal until four." He dropped the towel on the couch and went to the kitchen area for breakfast.

"So you were going to sleep until noon?"

Methos shrugged. "Why not?" MacLeod simply stared, uncomprehending. Methos noticed this and shook his head. "Mac, when I lived in the desert we were up before dawn, napped during midday, then we were active again once the heat cooled down. I have lived in places where we rose with the sun and went to bed at sunset. It was necessary then. It's not now." He found what he wanted, a box of cereal, then fixed himself a bowl.

"What are you eating?" MacLeod asked. "That's not a real breakfast!"

Another shrug. "It works for me." He narrowed his gaze at the Highlander. "Why's it so important to you when I sleep and what I eat."

For that he had no answer so he ignored it. "You know, you should join me when I run."

"No, that's okay. I run just fine in the evening."

"You run?"

"I'll have you know I ran the marathon in Greece."

Mac supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, his friend's lean frame was a runner's build, but it did surprise him. "I guess you keep in practice so you can run from the Challenges," he said with a smile. "So, why do you sleep in when you're used to getting up early?" he asked with honest curiosity.

"Because I tend to stay out late. There's this wonderful invention called the light bulb, makes activities after dark easier. You should try it sometimes. It's not like I have any reason to get up early. The Watchers don't care as long as I get my job done. I could be nocturnal for all it matters. Maybe you should try it sometime, get out of your rut?"

"Haven't you heard? Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man wealthy, healthy and wise?"

"Made up in times when you had to work the fields during the day. Getting up early means having more sunlight. Doesn't apply. Not that I have to worry about my health, I have plenty of money stashed around, and wisdom is overrated anyway."

"Don't you miss the sunrise? Watching the world grow lighter, feeling the day begin, that moment of quiet before the sun's up?"

"There is no quiet before the sun. People are driving to work and getting stuck in traffic because they have to keep up with other time zones, and I've seen five thousand years' worth of sunrises already. I really can't say I miss them, sorry."

Methos finished his cereal and rinsed the bowl out. "Since you're up early today, why don't you join me for a spar?"

"No thanks Mac, I'm not in the mood." He went back to the couch and lied down on it.

"What are you doing?"

"I've had four hours of sleep. I thought I might get a few more," he offered the simple explanation. In response, MacLeod was as loud as possible while cleaning the kitchen. "That's not going to work, Mac," Methos mumbled. His voice was already thick with sleep.

Duncan was determined to get the old man up and going. There was no reason beyond rising up to the challenge. He poured a cup of coffee and waved it under his nose. No response. He played the loudest opera he had. Not even a comment about his lack of taste. He didn't want to repeat himself so tickling was out. Then an absolutely evil and self-serving grin spread on his face. Ignoring the damage he might do to his couch, he filled a bucket from the faucet in the tub and dumped the cold water on his friend.

"Ack! MacLeod." he continued on in various languages, only a few of which Mac could understand. He got the gist though. Even when he shut himself in the bathroom to dry off, Methos could still be heard. He returned to English when he came out. "MacLeod, what is the problem! You've never complained about my sleeping habits before, so why did you decide to give me an icy shower now? You probably ruined your couch in this display of juvenile behavior."

'And you can be sure I'll be getting you back' he added silently. He kept up the appearance of anger, but inside he was grinning as he started planning his vengeance. 'Let the games begin.'


That afternoon, when Duncan started up the computer to work on the dojo's accounts, the screen showed a black background with a yellow smiley face on a stick figures body. A sword would appear from nowhere and cut at the neck and the face would roll off and bounce around for a moment with X's instead of eyes. The decidedly morbid yet somehow cute animation repeated itself over and over, and nothing he did could fix it. He never noticed the disk in the floppy drive, which the computer had used to start up rather than the operating system on the hard drive.

Later, while seasoning his dinner, it quickly became apparent that not only had several of the spices been put into the wrong jars, but the lids had been loosened as well. Therefore, rather than adding just a bit of garlic, salt poured out and covered his food.

When he taught an evening class and drew his sword to demonstrate a move, the class snickered when they saw his sword, a bright pink rubber thing with sheep stickers stuck all over it.

He sat on a stool just after Methos vacated it, only to end up on the floor when it fell apart.

By the time he went to bed, he was tired of being ambushed at every turn. The last few hours had been prank free since Methos had gone out with some friends in the Watchers. The hours before that had been tortuous. He had just gotten comfortable, when he heard what sounded like a small motor turn on. It was quiet, and he wasn't sure he'd even heard a thing, when he saw an inflatable sheep rising at the side of his bed. It was wearing the MacLeod plaid, with a piece of paper saying "Baah, baaah" on it's nose. When he investigated, he found a motorized pump hooked up to the sheep and plugged into a timer which was set to go off a few minutes after he went to bed. It took less than a minute for the sheep to fill, the time it took him to find these things. He unplugged the pump and put the sheep by the couch for Methos when he returned then went to bed.


As usual, Methos got in late. MacLeod roused slightly at his presence then rolled over when Methos called out. He grinned at the sheep standing guard by the couch. Now that he was awake and out of his mood, he appreciated the fact that Mac felt comfortable enough with him pull things like that. Now that they had know each other a few years, Duncan had stopped expecting certain things of him outside of the fact that he preferred his couch to a hotel and could and would drink astounding amounts of beer. It was nice to be able to be himself, without having to censor himself or play a role, such as the wise elder. He'd tried that before, and it got lonely after a while. That wouldn't stop him from giving MacLeod advice whether he wanted it or not (usually not!), but he'd rather have a friend than a student. He went to sleep with a smile on his face as he wondered what Mac might do tomorrow to deserve revenge.


The End

Katie Grogan's Fanfic Page All-Methos Fanfic Page My Methos Corner