Disclaimers:  Original characters and concept of  Highlander and  Highlander: The Series are property of a host of people, none of whom, unfortunately, are  me.  Original characters and the story herein, however,  are exclusively mine and cannot be used or posted without my permission.  Thanks.
Rating:  PG-14.

Author's Note:  This story is quite definitely a PWP ("Plot? What Plot?"); it started out as a scene to throw into a larger story, but the larger story never came.  Still, I dug this out of my files recently, figured it could stand just as well on its own and . . . well, here we are.  If someone wants to expand on the idea or character, feel free -- just please let me know first.  :-)  Also: The "turtles" line towards the end comes with a nod to my brother, Christian, for its creation as an "I'm changing the subject 180 degrees now" indicator.  Thanks, bro!

Pots  &  Kettles

© 1997, Grace Macy

It was always interesting to hear conversations in a Watchers game of poker; one never knew what one might hear.  That was why Methos, known to the mortals in Joe's bar as Adam Pierson, still attended them even though the actual thrill -- and challenge, for that matter -- of gambling had been lost to him about 1100 years ago.

Take tonight, for instance.  Assembled at Joe's were six Watchers, plus 'Adam' and Joe, with various duties, backgrounds, ages and attitudes, and only their general line of work and their poker game in common.  Methos knew them all to some extent, though mostly from seeing them on a rather regular basis at Joe's bar.  Seated around the table, where the game was finally winding to a close, were Alexander Charles, Jeremy Strait, Paulette LaMose, Joe himself, Gabriel Lipesky, Clara Devereaux, and Jack O'Shannan.

Methos sat at the bar with a good bottle of beer, leaning backwards with his elbows on the counter, watching and listening contentedly.  During the game, conversation had skipped from assignments to Laundromats (and their usefulness for "stakeouts") to movies and now, much to Methos' amusement, to speculations about the world's oldest Immortal.

"What I wouldn't give to meet Methos," Alexander mused aloud, waving his beer-mug expressively.  He was an elegantly put-together man in his mid-forties, conforming perfectly to the expectations of dress and attitude that went with his archivist's position.  "Five thousand years. . .," he continued, shaking his head slightly.  "Imagine the knowledge, imagine the wisdom . . ."

"Imagine the sex," Clara threw in, smiling faintly.

'Adam' choked on his drink.

Clara looked at him and chuckled.  She was perhaps 27 years old, pretty and curvaceous, with the dressing habits of an aristocrat and the attitude -- and mischief -- of a cat.  She was currently between assignments, (naturally) thanks to MacLeod.  Clara laughed harder as she saw the stunned expressions on the faces around the table.  "Oh come on," she chided.  "Don't tell me none of you ever thought it!  Five thousand years . . .?"

The young woman made a sound of appreciation and Alexander shook his head.  "You don't even know if he's your type!" he said, a bit  disgustedly.

Clara just raised an eyebrow at him.  "Please!  Five thousand years of experience?"  She raised the beer bottle to her lips with a smile.  "I'd sleep with the man if he looked like the  fake Methos."

'Adam' choked harder, this time from laughing.

Clara looked at him, frowning.  "You okay?"  He nodded, blinking back tears of laughter, and she smiled.  "Glad someone appreciates my point."

'Adam' nodded emphatically, still mute.

Clara grinned, then looked back to her poker-companions.  "Well.  Speaking of claustrophobic turtles," she said, and idly laid out her hand of cards.  Full house.  The other players groaned and threw in their own cards, muttering inarticulately about distractions and dirty minds.

'Adam' snickered and won another smile from Clara, which he returned with interest.  Joe turned in his seat and glared at him.

Methos happily ignored him, planning instead how to ask for Clara's phone number while she was in town.  The 5000-year-old Immortal grinned inwardly.   I knew there was a reason I liked Seacouver.  He might not be able to tell the pretty young Watcher who he was, but he could certainly give his reputation a run for its money.

Finis

Email the author!
Corujinha1@aol.com

Back to 'Highlander' Fanfic Index

Back to Main Library Index         Back to Main Fanfiction Index

Adventures of Sinbad   ~~~     Andromeda   ~~~     Angel   ~~~     Babylon5   ~~~     BeastMaster: The Series   ~~~     Beauty & the Beast
Buffy the Vampire Slayer   ~~~     Charmed  ~~~     The Crow: Stairway to Heaven   ~~~     Crusade   ~~~     due South   ~~~     Farscape
Gundam Wing   ~~~     Highlander: The Series   ~~~     Miscellaneous Fiction   ~~~     Mortal Kombat   ~~~     Mortal Kombat: Conquest
Poltergeist the Legacy   ~~~     Raven   ~~~     TSAoJules Verne  ~~~     The Sentinel   ~~~     Stargate SG1   ~~~     Star Trek: Voyager

I can't fix it if I don't know it's broken, so if you see anything wrong,  please let me know.  Thank you and enjoy your stay!