Fanfiction Paradies: 'Von Schafen und Schotten' von Britta + Birgitt

Disclaimer: We don't own these Characters. Chorus: Panzer/Davis does. We're not making any money with this. Chorus: Panzer/Davis does not either! Yadda, yadda, yadda. The Characters are not ours but we surely would treat them better. Same goes for the concept of Immortality.
Notes: This story is a direct result of a certain challenge that was issued on the HLQueer mailing-list. So you know whom to blame for the following shameless silliness. This is written from Duncan's POV, although we had a little fight over this point.
Historical notes: All historical facts that are mentioned in this story are taken from the following URL: www.neuschwanstein.com So we refuse to be held responsible for any historical inconsistencies. Unfortunately we checked out more than one page for German castles and they all had it somewhat different. So don't take anything of this to the bank.
Warning: Some elements of D/s. The sex gets a bit rough. You asked for it, after all.
Archiv: Fanfiction Paradies (http://www.fanficparadies.de/) in der Highlander-Sektion.
Diese Geschichte ist eine Antwort auf den HLQueer-Pfingst-Challenge 2000.

The world's oldest Immortal choked on his beer and only the stern look from the flight attendant kept him from decorating the seats in front of him with it. Additionally, and most fortunately, that also saved the small portable chessboard they were playing with right now, and which he had insisted on bringing, from an alcoholic shower. "You fooled the Germans with *that*?" he asked now, after having heard a sample of the Scot's German, amusement and disbelief in his voice battling for superiority.

Duncan looked hurt. "Well, so far my skills in the German language have served me well."

"Hey! I haven't had five millennia to work on it as certain other people had," Duncan defended himself, slightly pouting, knowing perfectly well which effect this would trigger.

"Me neither. May I remind you that the German language is only approximately thirteen hundred years old? So go figure."

Any further bantering was cut short by the captain's announcement: "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. Our plane will touch down at Berlin Tegel International Airport on schedule and we hope you enjoyed the flight with Swiss Air."

Methos and Duncan began packing their stuff and prepared for leaving the aircraft. The old man muttered under his breath. "Well, at least the Germans know how to brew beer. Nonetheless, one should think that a beer-convention would be held in Bavaria."

Methos shot him a dirty look for the slip and the Highlander managed to appear accordingly subdued. "Let me get this straight. The convention is in Munich and we are landing in Berlin. Last time I checked those two cities were pretty far apart. Did I miss anything essential?" The world's oldest man had stored away Adam Pierson and was now presenting his 'try to fuck with me and you're trying to fuck with the best'-attitude, which was a continuous cause of annoyance to Duncan.

"Well, the next direct flight to Munich wouldn't have left before tomorrow morning, so I thought we could just rent a car and drive the rest of the way to Munich. It's not that Germany is such a large country, now is it?"

Another disparaging snort escaped the oldest Immortal. "If your knowledge of continental Europe's geography is an adequate indicator of your knowledge of the German language than we're heading towards trouble. You drive."

Duncan guessed that a relatively big, comfortable car would have been too much to ask for, but the Ford Fiesta they were stuck with now really didn't improve either of their moods. Especially the world's oldest man looked positively pissed as he was crouching in the passenger seat. Duncan was surprised Methos hadn't yet placed his feet on the dashboard, but was sure it would happen eventually. After all, they were only half-way to the Bavarian capital yet, and had at least another three hours to go. It seemed that even for an Olympic sprawler the sprawling came to an end when forced into the tiny interior of a car with the proportions of this particular vehicle.

All of a sudden Methos' slender body jerked up and Duncan was immediately on guard. "What?" he demanded. He hadn't sensed another Immortal but maybe Methos had.

"There's a McDonald's one kilometer from here. I'm hungry. We're stopping there," his unnerving lover ordered firmly, not paying any attention to the Scot's sudden agitation.

"Methos!" Duncan exclaimed, catching a short glimpse of the sign that had caused the old man's sudden activity. "We're definitely not eating at a McDonald's! Jesus!" He couldn't believe it. The ancient Immortal actually liked that greasy, unhealthy, and disgusting stuff. On the other hand, it just sounded like the old man, the Scot had to admit silently.

Duncan resisted the impulse to stare at the man sitting beside him, just to make sure the other Immortal hadn't transformed into the five year old he sounded like. He could all but *hear* the sulking expression on Methos' face. How did he put up with the old guy, anyway, Duncan asked himself. Earlier experiences had taught him that any subsequent debate would be futile and so the Highlander saved his breath and instead set the indicators. "All right, but don't think I'm gonna take one bite at that place!"

Methos wasn't impressed. "I hate to be the one to break this news to you but you're immortal. You'll live, no matter what or if you eat."

The Scot didn't believe his eyes. Immediately after entering the premises, Methos had spotted the four different Furbies the restaurant chain currently offered and was now lost in examining his objects of attention. He definitely had left Death outside and transubstantiated into Adam Pierson again. While waiting in the quite long queue, the Highlander was inwardly delighted and touched to see the oldest living Immortal so playful. Visiting the beer-convention had definitely been an excellent idea, albeit it had needed some serious coaxing and cajoling to get the old man in. But the words 'my treat' had eventually done the trick. The Highlander quickly hid his smile when his lover forced himself away from the noisy toys and joined him in the queue.

"I want those," Methos stated matter-of-factly, pointing to the items in question. "All four of them."

The Highlander hesitated, unsure how to proceed. "I already have a hard time storing away all the crap you've dragged aboard during the last few months." He made a final attempt to prevent the inevitable. "You really don't need anything more." Duncan winced at his own words. That had sounded way more fatherly than he had intended it to and he knew instantly Methos would go in for the kill now. The old man hated to be mother-henned over.

To his surprise, Methos sounded suspiciously tame when he replied, "You know, one of them reminds me of you. It says 'sheep' in German."

"Adam, if one of them says 'Schaf' I'll buy you all four of them." The second the words had left his mouth Duncan knew he had lost a battle he hadn't even realized he'd been fighting. The older Immortal literally bounced once before he got his emotions in check again and the Scot got the wary feeling of having walked straight into a well-placed trap. This was all so... Methos.

Not even fifteen minutes later Methos was happily digging himself into his second Big Mac (no pun intended, he had said wickedly after placing the order) and, despite himself, the Highlander was eating something with chicken and mustard. His lover had a point, after all: he'd live. And it wasn't *that* bad, he had to admit.

The speckled Furby was sitting menacingly in the middle of the small table, waiting patiently for its cue.

"Where exactly did you say this convention is again?" a chewing Methos wanted to know.

Duncan swallowed before answering, simultaneously reaching into one of his inner coat pockets, fishing for something. "Not sure. Everything should be in here," he said, handing the older Immortal the brochure he had produced. Why a German TV-Channel - called VOX - would patron and sponsor such an event in the first place was beyond him, anyway.

Eating with one hand, Methos curiously flipped through the pages while chewing on something that was called a 'McRip' or same such. Suddenly his lover's expressive face went still. Too still. Duncan had a bad feeling about this. "Now what?" the Scot asked, putting just the right amount of exasperation into his voice.

The world's oldest living Immortal ignored him and instead read the passage again that had caused this particular reaction. The Highlander had to wait another two minutes for his answer. "We can't go there, Mac," Methos stated as if he was ordering a coffee refill.

Duncan's eyes went wide. Methos was refusing to go to a beer-convention? "Why not?"

"Why not? They expect us to pay for the beer! That's why," Methos replied as if it should have been obvious to anyone with more than fifty brain-cells, which didn't necessarily include certain Highland barbarian infants. "I haven't paid for beer in...," he seemed to be seriously considering the question, "about three hundred and twenty years. I'm not planning on changing this now. I have a reputation to uphold, you know?"

"Methos," the Highlander said in a conspicuously quiet voice, "I'm sure I don't have to remind you that I'm paying for this trip. So just calm down, will you?"

His lover shook his head in the negative. "You don't understand, Mac. *They* don't know that you're paying so it still might hurt my carefully established position. I'm sorry, Duncan, but we really can't go there," he finished sadly.

The Highlander looked at his lover with wide eyes. Damn! They'd known each other for five years now and they'd become lovers a couple about six months ago and still Duncan hadn't the slightest idea when Methos was kidding and when he wasn't. Then he reminded himself that they were talking about beer here. Free beer! Methos had to be joking! The Scot flashed the older man a radiant smile. "Nice try, old man. Now eat up so we can move on."

The oldest Immortal looked at him as if he had grown a second nose or something equally silly. "Mac, I'm serious. Should I be using smaller words? We. Can't. Go. There!"

At Methos' sarcastic, wounding tone Duncan felt a wave of anger rise in him. His friend probably hadn't invented selfishness but it sure as hell was a close thing. "Methos," Duncan replied, his voice lowered in warning. "I paid for the tickets and I booked us seats at the levee and the closing-event. We are going!"

Here we go again, Duncan thought as he saw the anger sparkle in the expressive hazel eyes of his lover. If we sparred as much in the dojo as we do verbally I'd never have to be worried about him losing a challenge again. But whatever admonishing remark had been on the tip of Methos' tongue, it never made it pass his lips as the world's oldest man excused himself to use the washroom. For a moment there, Duncan could have sworn there was a mischievous twinkle in his lover's eyes but he must've been mistaken. Surely he had been mistaken.

"What?!" the Highlander exclaimed, non-plussed by the totally unrelated remark. Obviously, Methos was mocking him with his German again. But his ordering hadn't been that bad, had it? Whatever...

When Methos finally returned from his extended trip to the facilities, he looked calmer and more at peace with himself. Seemingly he had changed his mind about the whole issue, but the Highlander remembered very well the saying about the gift horse and wisely decided to keep his silence. His lover smiled amiably at Duncan as he reclaimed his formerly abandoned chair and started eating the remains of his french fries. "I'm sorry, Mac. You were right. It wasn't very considerate of me to be so egoistic. You had to pay in advance for all this and it really would be a waste of money not to attend to the convention now."

The Scot was speechless for a minute. Had Methos just *apologized* to him? And, in the same breath, *conceded a point*? Just like that? Will glory be and may wonders never cease, Duncan told himself. "You know, Methos, you never quit surprising me but I'm not complaining. Just promise me something." He waited until the old man nodded for him to continue. "If I ever start understanding the way you think? Shoot me with a big gun."

Methos grinned maliciously and patted the right side of his coat in waist-height. "Will my 9mm Luger do or do you want me to bring the bazooka?"

Another five minutes later they were finally ready to leave and Duncan was just beginning to hope Methos might have forgotten all about those Furby-thingies. Well, he hadn't. "We can't go yet, Mac," the old man reminded him friendly.

"I knew it," the Highlander sighed heavenwards and sat back down. A furry object was pushed into his right hand.

"I can't believe this is happening. I swear, Methos, if this goes into my Chronicles you can as well find a way to take your own head. It'll be less painful than what I'll do to you," Duncan complained while pressing the odious object a couple of times. He couldn't make out one word the tiny thing said, its pronunciation wasn't exactly by the book. After a couple of squeezes something that sounded slightly like the German word 'Schaf' came out of the speaker of the Furby. It couldn't be, could it? Why would anyone program such a toy to say something this absurd?

He activated the gadget a few more times until the word came again. It sounded indeed suspiciously like 'Schaf'. Methos grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "All right!" Duncan finally said. "You win. I'll go get the other three."

When they were walking out of the restaurant, heading for the car, the old man said smugly, "You know, it doesn't actually say 'Schaf' but 'Spaß' but it was blurry enough to fool you so I thought I wouldn't mention it until you bought me all four of them."

Only Methos' excellent reflexes saved him from getting hit in the face by the car keys.

"What exactly do you think you're doing there?" Duncan had a hard time keeping his concentration on the road while the old man had crawled half-way onto the backseats, fishing around for something. "Would you sit down and fasten your seatbelt?"

Methos reappeared in his field of vision, having found his laptop and now opening it, starting it up. "Don't worry, MacLeod. My body does this strange trick of healing very quickly. I don't know if you've ever seen it before," came the sarcastic reply.

Duncan ignored the smart-ass comment. "Don't tell me you wanna check your e-mail again."

"No," Methos retorted. "This time I want to send one. To this bizarre German TV channel – VOX, was it?" he said while establishing a connection between the laptop and his cell phone.

Duncan let his friend hack away on his computer and listened to the news on the radio instead for a while. It wasn't long before the ancient immortal presented his results. He reached out and turned down the volume of the radio.

als überzeugter Biertrinker war ich von Ihrer Idee, eine Biermesse zu veranstalten, mehr als angetan, und weiß Ihr Engagement in dieser Sache durchaus zu würdigen.

Leider mußte ich zu meiner tief empfundenen Bestürzung der offiziellen Broschüre entnehmen, daß von den Teilnehmern erwartet wird, für die Bierproben zusätzlich zu Eintrittspreis und Messegebühr aufzukommen. Gerade von einem Sponsor Ihrer Couleur hätte ich eine kulantere Regelung begrüßt.

Um Mißverständnisse zu vermeiden, möchte ich an dieser Stelle ausdrücklich betonen, daß es mir nicht um den monetären Aspekt geht. Meiner Meinung nach spricht es für einen Ausdruck kleingeistiger Attitüde, für jedes einzelne Getränk separat zahlen zu müssen. Dieses Problem hätte sicherlich ohne großen zusätzlichen Arbeitsaufwand Ihrerseits eleganter gelöst werden können, indem die Teilnahmegebühr in ihrer Höhe entsprechend angepaßt worden wäre.

'I'm not gonna yell, I'm not gonna yell,' Duncan repeated in his mind like a silent mantra. 'They're not gonna believe it anyway. Not with one of Methos' imaginative e-mail addresses.' "You'll never get an answer. They know my address. They won't buy it if it comes from one of yours."

"You're right. That's why I'll send it from your address," Methos stated flatly while the modem dialed.

"You hacked into my account?!" the younger immortal asked indignantly, almost crashing into a red Opel.

"Yes, why not? We are lovers, remember the concept? Sharing everything and so on? And besides, you should be grateful. My German is far better than yours. So I just improved your standing with those TV people by several grades."

The world's oldest man snorted kindly. "In that case you won't have any troubles speaking only German while you fuck me senseless tonight, will you?" Methos teased, a challenging gleam in his eyes.

"No, none at all, my friend," Duncan parried. Fucking Methos senseless was certainly a challenge he liked to take on.

"Promise? Cross my heart and hope to die?" Again Methos sounded like a little boy dancing around the Christmas tree in joyous anticipation.

"If you insist. 'Cross my heart and hope to die'," the Scot echoed, experiencing the distinct feeling of having been tricked again. Well, whatever. There were definitely worse things than being cajoled into sex. Mind-blowing sex to be more precise.

Half an hour later, Methos had just ornamented the Fiesta's dashboard with his four new toys when he informed the Highlander about their names. "Since there are four I thought I'd name them after the Horsemen." Duncan restrained a fierce wince. The old man took some sort of perverse pleasure from tormenting the Scot with his brutal and cruel past. Methos had once told him that he didn't want Duncan to forget whom he was dealing with, thereby trying to prepare his lover for eventual other skeletons in his very, very large closet...

Duncan said nothing. It still hurt but not as badly as it had a few years ago. He still wasn't able to understand Methos' actions and his motivations for the former but he tried to accept them. How often had Duncan thought he had come to terms with his lover's past adventures when Methos' said something like that and it hurt like a vicious punch below the belt-line? And Methos' persistent reminding wasn't helping much, if at all. Confronted with Duncan's thoughts regarding this matter, the old man had only admonished that ignoring those facts wouldn't do any good either. Sooner or later something ugly from his past would re-appear and then they would be back at square one. Something Methos was trying to avoid at all costs for he was very fond of their current relationship, he had told him with a soft kiss and an unmistakable promising expression in his bedroom-eyes.

The man formerly known as Death could be the most loveable creature on earth if he wanted to be. Gentle, friendly, well-mannered, extremely funny, considerate (well, sometimes), caring, and loving. But there was also this other side of the man he had fallen in love with head over heels. This other side that only showed on very rare occasions by a certain overcast flicker in the world's oldest Immortal's eyes. At those moments Methos' expression allowed him to see beyond Adam Pierson and into the darker part of the old man's personality. The part that told of an evil deviousness, of cold-blooded calculation and manipulation, of ulterior motives, of Methos' willingness to do anything to assure his survival. No, Duncan corrected himself, not his survival but ours. His lover had made it very clear from the beginning of their relationship that he had no intention of losing the Highlander, one way or the other.

When said moments had arrived for the first couple of times after the disaster in Bordeaux, Duncan hadn't been sure how he felt about them. At first, he had mistaken his emotions for fear. Turning a man like Methos against oneself without a very excellent reason was a very dumb thing to do, he had come to understand then. But it wasn't fear, he had realized some time later, it was a small amount of awe mixed with a certain arrogant feeling of complacency. He couldn't wish for a better and more capable partner at his side than Methos. What the old man couldn't prevent from happening to him, no-one could. And vice-versa. Additionally, of all the things he saw in Methos, the wish to blindly kill or hurt for pleasure definitely wasn't among them. This realization had helped him remarkably in the process of dealing with his lover's past.

Duncan noticed that the old man was looking at him warily from his place in the passenger seat and the Highlander actualized that he hadn't said anything in the last few minutes. The Scot was glad the smile that was spreading on his face was in no way forced and it clearly reached his eyes as he replied to Methos' earlier statement. "Which one is Death?"

The world's oldest man hesitated for a second, then took the open smile for what it was and continued as if nothing had happened, a silent 'thank you' displaying in his eyes. "The one that says 'Schaf', of course. Only someone who is involved with a Scottish barbarian would say something as stupid as that repeatedly."

Duncan bid the inside of his left cheek painfully to hinder the laughter that was building in his throat from escaping but it was fruitless, he burst out. Some calming seconds later he reached out with his right arm towards his lover and Methos, who was enjoying himself way too much for Duncan's sake, let himself be caught and pulled over to the waiting, hungry mouth of his lover and only the traffic on the motorway that demanded the Highlander's immediate attention, saved them from momentary asphyxiation. Being immortal definitely had its upsides. The term 'to fuck someone into oblivion' became a whole new meaning.

With a self-assured smile the old man leaned back in his seat. "The one with the yellow hat is War. You know, Kronos used to wear such a hat for a couple of years. Even the slaves were laughing behind his back." Duncan loved when Methos told such little anecdotes from his past and urged him to continue, hoping to get some more information. "This one," the ancient Immortal turned the orange-striped Furby in question idly in his long fingers, "looks like Garfield. So it's Famine." Methos took the last remaining Furby and threw in the back. "I never liked Caspian."

I shouldn't be so surprised, Duncan chided himself. Under further consideration, Methos' unexpected and surprising trip to the washroom had taken way too long. And how appeased the old bastard had looked and behaved when he had returned. That alone should have told me everything, Duncan thought, just when the engine of the small vehicle gave another loud complaint as he tried to put in the fifth gear again.

Said old bastard was sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat, apparently completely at ease and oblivious to their engine-problems. Not that it could have been much more noisy. The Highlander didn't buy the 'I'm sound asleep and will get really mad if you wake me'-shit for a minute. "What the hell have you done with the engine, you goddamned son-of-a-bitch?" the Scot asked not in the least bit friendly.

The world's oldest man winced in acknowledgment to the loud and harsh words of the Highlander and stirred in his seat. Not even opening his eyes, he spat, "What on *earth* are you blathering about, MacLeod?" One eye cracked open. "We're obviously not in Munich yet so shut up and wake me when we're there. And I'll have you know that I don't take kindly being woken as rudely as you just did. I'm an old man, I need some comfort," Methos finished his speech and was snuggling even deeper into the upholstery to go back to sleep, both eyes firmly closed again to stress his point.

But not this time. "Stop the charade, old man. All this is a little too coincidental for my tastes, you know? First you not wanting to go to that convention, then your far too extended stay in the *lavatory*, and then the car breaks down? Pull the other one, Methos. I'm not buying it." His voice was still grim, this time his devious lover had crossed the line.

Methos reopened his eyes, all traces of sleep had left them. "What do you mean, 'the car breaks down'? We're moving, aren't we?" he said just in time for another drastic klonk from the car's engine and with it a considerable loss of velocity. The ancient Immortal shrugged one shoulder, his face all innocence. "Well, now I see your point." Another unhealthy sound from under the hood and Methos began rummaging in the glove-compartment. "There should be a phone number somewhere here in case of an emergency. German version of the Automobile club."

They were now making no more than seventy kilometers per hour and Duncan had switched to the right side of the road, trying to obstruct the other drivers as little as possible. The Scot cast a quick glance at his lover. "And you want me to believe you've nothing to do with it, eh?" he asked, still in an accusing tone of voice. But he wasn't so sure about Methos guilt anymore. The old man really looked honestly enraged about their current situation and besides, a broken car meant inconvenience. And Methos wasn't exactly a sucker for any kind of discomfort, now was he?

The other Immortal shot him a very menacingly glare, his eyes sparkling with fury. "Whatever makes you believe otherwise, Highlander? Do I look like I had the pressing urge to take an extensive walk on a German motorway at dusk on a dark and stormy evening? Furthermore, you know perfectly well that I don't know the first thing about engines in general and car-engines in particular. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you how much your recent display of distrust hurt, *my love*," Methos spat angrily at him, before returning his attention to the glove-compartment.

Duncan reconsidered. For all he could tell, the old man's reactions were totally honest and sincere. Had he really wrongly blamed him? And it wasn't only a dark and stormy evening, it was also pretty cold and looked like they were going to have rain, not a combination Methos was very fond of. But what about...

"Then what were you doing so long a time in the washroom?" he asked finally, calmer and placated.

The infuriated face turned to him again. "Oh, excuse me all the hell, I didn't realize you were taking the time! And if you must know," he continued after a deep breath, "I was a little constipated. Now, where the hell is the bloody ADAC brochure that's supposed to be in every rental car?"

In a nutshell, they didn't find the number for the German Automobile Club and neither a SOS-Telephone and the Scot had no other choice than to take the next exit. Their speed was reduced to forty km/h now and he doubted that they would reach the nearest garage. Not to mention that it would be closed by now, anyway. The Scot was silently praying for an upcoming hotel, when his passenger suddenly pointed to a small path between some large trees. "That's the driveway for some sort of cottage, I believe. Surely they'll have the yellow pages, don't you think?" he asked hopefully. The Highlander nodded his consent and turned the wheel sharply to force the pathetic, dying car into the well taken care of path.

Bravely, the small vehicle carried its passengers to the courtyard of the small estate and as Duncan turned the key the engine died with a decided final blast.

They didn't have to ring. The roar from the engine had made their arrival very obvious and the second the formally clad butler opened the door for them, Duncan felt the unequivocal buzz of another Immortal. Not the butler himself but someone else, someone further inside the house. Damn! Why does this always happen to me, the Scot asked himself. Please, God, he prayed silently, let this be someone friendly. Someone who's not looking for a fight. If this turns into a bloody mess, Methos is going to kill me. Permanently.

His thoughts were interrupted as the world's oldest man introduced them politely and in a perfectly pronounced German. Duncan couldn't - just like earlier in the car - make out any accent at all. Before Methos had a chance to explain their summarized situation to the patiently waiting butler, a figure appeared behind the servant. The other Immortal. The face looked strangely familiar although the Scot couldn't remember having ever met this man before.

His lover had stopped talking by now and was also looking at the stranger, a somewhat uncertain expression on his face, combined with a shy smile. Did Methos know this man? His question was answered when after a few seconds the stranger's face almost broke with a wide grin, he pushed aside his butler and called, "Eduard!" before embracing the old man tightly and intimately. And suddenly the penny dropped...

Duncan was very aware of the fact that he was being incredibly impolite concerning their host, not even having said a dozen words since they had made their way here. But he just couldn't help it. Fury and anger didn't even begin to describe what he was feeling currently for the world's oldest asshole. Methos had yanked the Highlander's chain probably since their arrival in Germany. Methos had furthermore lied to him in the most brazen way and deliberately sabotaged their rented car. Something Duncan had to face the music for, also, because he had signed the contract with AVIS. Then Methos had hid the ADAC brochure to make sure they couldn't call for help and that Duncan had to take the next exit. What a strange coincident that the first estate they'd passed had been the one of this acquaintance of Methos'. And to crown everything, the scheming old bastard was continuously enthusiastically chatting with the man who had introduced himself as 'Graf Zahl'. Apparently, the two had history.

Now they were having dinner and the Scot wasn't able to do more than rearrange the admittedly delicious schupfnudeln and the sauerkraut. James (why was it that indeed every butler - even the ones in Germany - were called James?) was giving them a refill of wine, but Duncan hardly noticed, a piece of the on-going conversation having caught his attention. Had Methos just asked something about the whereabouts of a donkey?

"Selbstverständlich immer noch in meinen Stallungen. Keiner will seinen Kopf, aus offensichtlichen und durchaus nachvollziehbaren Gründen," the Count answered.

Methos nodded thoughtfully. "Hast du ihm denn wenigstens mittlerweile einen Namen gegeben, Lu?"

"Natürlich, habe ihn Diefenbaker getauft. Konnte die Kanadier noch nie besonders gut leiden und da dachte ich, daß 'Diefenbaker' für einen Esel ja wirklich passend ist."

"Ein Esel?" the Highlander inquired unbelievingly, switching to the currently used language with carefully chosen words for he remembered most vividly this afternoon's embarrassing episode regarding the sheep.

Duncan had directed his question to the Count, unwilling to talk to his lover for the next decade or so. Nevertheless, the Scot noticed the in amusement raised eyebrow of his nemesis but pretended to have missed it. The short moment they had been on their own while getting their luggage from the car, he had sent Methos his most withering glare but, as was to be expected, *Death* hadn't seemed impressed. The older Immortal had just grabbed his bag and his computer and with a small smirk disappeared back into the relative safety of the house.

"Ja, Sie haben richtig gehört. Als ich Eduard kennenlernte, kam er gerade aus Persien, wo er architektonische Studien betrieben hat, und hatte einen Esel dabei. Einen unsterblichen Esel, wohlgemerkt!"

Duncan was stunned. He had never heard of an immortal animal before. "Bitte erklären Sie mir dies mehr genau."

"Gern, aber eigentlich ist das Eduards Geschichte," the Count replied. However, Methos just shook his head without interrupting his dinner, gesturing for the Count to continue.

"Gut," the Count went on. "Ich traute damals meinen Augen kaum. Da erwartet man einen jungen, ehrgeizigen Nachwuchsarchitekten und dann hat er einen Esel im Schlepptau. Einen Esel mit einem schwachen, aber doch klar erkennbaren Quickening. Dies bemerkte ich natürlich erst nach meinem ersten Tod. Eduard erzählte mir damals, daß er in Persien schon kurz davor war, das Tier zu enthaupten, aber er war sich wohl nicht sicher, wie das Quickening eines Esels sich auf ihn auswirken würde."

"Wouldn't have made a difference," the Highlander muttered sarcastically under his breath, glancing quickly at his silent lover.

Methos ran a hand through his short-cropped hair and admitted a little coyly, "I guess I had that one coming." Duncan felt a surge of satisfaction. Maybe the old man was finally seeing reason?

"Eduard hat mir das Tier überlassen, quasi als Abschiedsgeschenk, nachdem wir Neuschwanstein fast fertig hatten. Danach mußte ich ja leider untertauchen."

Duncan all but stared at the Count open-mouthed while he tried to cope with this new piece of information of his lover's colorful past. "Neuschwanstein? Das Schloß Neuschwanstein?"

The Count smiled proudly. "Ja, das war zu meiner Zeit als Ludwig II. von Bayern. Nachdem sie mich entmündigt und abgesetzt hatten, beging ich Selbstmord und konnte so meinem Gefängnis entkommen. Das steht natürlich so nicht in den Geschichtsbüchern, daß zwei Unsterbliche für die Entstehung dieses großartigen Bauwerks verantwortlich sind."

"And didn't I do an excellent job with the plumbing and the bathrooms?" Methos quipped.

The Count laughed. "You did indeed, my old friend. Schade nur, daß wir deine Idee mit den parfümierten Badesklaven dann nicht mehr in die Tat umsetzen konnten. Wäre wirklich zu schön gewesen. Aber der schnöde Mammon war schon damals das größte aller Probleme." The Count sighed wistfully.

The two strolled down memory lane for another half an hour and Duncan learned more and clearer facts about the creation of 'Hohenschwangau' as Neuschwanstein was originally called than from any story he had ever heard about it. He still couldn't believe it. Methos was Eduard Riedel? The Highlander almost regretted to have spent this period of time in the young United States of America.

After dinner the three moved their conversation to the old library, a wonderfully decorated room with an open fireside and thousands of books. The old Immortal obviously was in heaven, as he sprawled on a huge armchair with an ancient volume in one and a glass of fine brandy in his other hand, looking like he couldn't hurt a fly if his life depended on it. The bastard... Nevertheless, Duncan regretted again that there was absolutely no room on the barge or in the loft for a real library like Methos loved them. They had to do something about this. The few book-shelves wouldn't do much longer and he wanted the old man to be happy, no matter what.

Later into the night, Duncan and Lu, as he preferred to be called, were exchanging funny and curious stories - in English to Duncan's relief - as though they had known each other for years. The Highlander had no idea why they had called Ludwig II. of Bavaria the Mad King. He certainly didn't seem mad to him. On the contrary.

Methos, on the other hand, was totally enthralled with his book, not participating in the discussions at all.

When the rich brandy had loosened their tongues a little more the former King of Bavaria got a little more personal. He looked at Duncan conspiratorial and nodded in Methos' general direction. "So, I take it the two of you are... involved?" Duncan only nodded, inquisitive as to where this was heading. The Count smiled knowingly and continued even more quietly. "Believe me, I know what a handful he can be."

The Scot felt an unexpected spike of jealousy jab through him. "So you were lovers, too?" he asked incidentally enough to his own ears. That eventually drew Methos' attention and he looked up from his book a little warily to follow the new thread of the talk. Seemingly, he didn't like their new subject very much. Good, the Highlander intended to proceed it. A little payback was long overdue.

"Well," the Count continued, "we worked together sixteen hours a day for more than ten years. It only seemed natural."

"Ich denke, daß dies hier weder der richtige Ort noch die richtige Zeit ist, unser ehemaliges Sexleben genauer zu beleuchten, Lu," Methos said now, a little less relaxed in his oversized chair.

That did it. Now Duncan needed to know everything. Every nasty little detail. "Ignorieren Sie ihn nur, Lu. Ich möchte alles wissen, alle Kleinigkeiten."

Methos was definitely trying to keep a low profile. But if he thought that carrying their luggage and coats would appease the Highlander, he was certainly mistaken. Lu had offered them to be his guests as long as they liked and the old man had gratefully and enthusiastically accepted for them both. So much for the beer convention...

As soon as James had shown them to their room for the night and closed the door behind himself, Duncan brutally grabbed the front of Methos' sweater and crashed him full force against the wall. The ancient Immortal winced in pain as his back connected soundly with the wooden paneling but he wasn't fighting the Scot. A knock on the door told Duncan that he should have waited a bit longer.

The Highlander glared at his lover, warning him to keep his silence. "Natürlich, James," Duncan called out. "Da war eine Welle im Teppich und ich bin gegen die Wand gestolpert. Nichts ist passiert. Oh, und James?" Duncan added as an afterthought. "Sie brauchen uns morgen früh nicht zu erwecken."

Methos wisely waited a few moments before speaking up shyly. "I take it we're beyond sorry?" he said now, evading his lover's stern gaze and smiling bashfully.

"Way beyond sorry, old man, way beyond sorry." Finally he had the ancient Immortal pinned down so he had nowhere to run and Duncan would eventually get some answers from him. For starters, when Methos had so kindly decided for them both that they were not going to Munich but to this old acquaintance of his instead. Duncan knew that part of his anger sprang from the nice, little stories their host had just told him about their sexual history, but he just couldn't help it. Methos was his now and the suggestive glances Lu had bombarded the old man with hadn't improved matters in the least.

Methos still didn't look up. "You promised me sex tonight, remember? The honorable Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod isn't going to break his word, is he?"

The Scot couldn't believe it. Why was the old man further provoking him like this? "Methos! This is not the time for sex!"

The older Immortal finally looked into his eyes, innocence written on his features. "Why not?" He seemed honestly confused but this time Duncan wasn't fooled by it.

"Because having sex with me would probably be damn painful at the moment." To emphasize his threat he lifted Methos' slender form from the floor by the collar of his sweater and slammed him once more into the wall, hoping this would intimidate the old man.

Duncan was stunned for a few seconds. He surely hadn't expected this particular reaction. "Do you want me to hurt you?" he asked completely caught off guard by Methos' words.

The world's oldest man was writhing in the Highlander's firm hold, keeping his eyes on the floor. "You heard what Lu said," he mumbled quietly.

The Highlander changed his hold on his lover so that he could use his right hand to clench Methos' jaw and thereby was able to force him to look at him directly. Dark brown eyes locked mercilessly with hazel ones. His grip must have been painfully tight but the other Immortal still made no attempt to get away. "Yeah, I heard what he said. I heard that he abused you."

Methos made a face. "Lu liked it rough, probably still does. He likes to control, to inflict pain. I just gave him what he wanted." Duncan looked doubtfully at the old man, uncertain as to where this was leading. "I assure you, Duncan - if Lu had tried to abuse me, he wouldn't be here right now," the world's oldest man finished with a sinister voice.

There Duncan was again, forgetting who he was talking to. Methos had Adam Pierson down so perfectly, that it was hard, even for the Highlander, to make out the world's oldest survivor beneath the layers, and to remember that Methos was fully capable of taking care of himself. Or, as the old man was so fond of reminding him, he was a big boy and that he hadn't had a Highland Boy Scout to watch over him for the first five thousand years.

"What are you saying? Would you like me to treat you as Lu did?" He let go of Methos and took a step back. He wasn't sure if he felt more shocked by or revolted at the thought of brutalizing his lover in the ways the former Bavarian king had done.

Being free again the old man immediately began pacing the room. "All I want you to be is who you are... and... and to take what you want." The older man didn't appear to be very comfortable with admitting his feelings, hence the pacing.

Duncan already regretted not having Methos confined anymore. He resisted the urge to slam his agitated lover into the wall a third time and instead settled with blocking his way. Considering how unnerved he was by the old man's strange behavior, his tone was surprisingly gentle. "Methos, what are you trying to tell me? Is there something wrong with our sex life?"

"No! No, Mac, our sex life is great! I haven't had sex like this in centuries." Without altering his pace, the ancient Immortal detoured the Highlander and continued criss-crossing the room in the most maddening way. Fortunately, they hadn't yet made it to the phase where Methos constantly kept pieces of heavy furniture between them. "All I'm trying to tell you is that I... Sometimes I *like*..." He waved his hands about as though he tried to fish for the right words to continue. "... being used, being... dominated," he concluded, almost sadly.

"Methos, I told you I'm not into that stuff and will definitely not beat you or something." It hurt Duncan to see his lover in such an emotional uproar. He seemed so helpless, vulnerable. Not at all like the man from fifteen minutes ago and even more distanced from the devious schemer he had been all afternoon.

Thankfully, Methos had stopped now in front of him and the Highlander was beyond relief when he detected a distinct sparkle in the eyes of the old, cynic bastard he had learned to appreciate in so many ways. "Engage brain, Highlander! If you think I'm a pain-slut, think again." Hesitantly, the world's oldest Immortal cupped the Scot's face with his warm hands and continued seriously and low voiced, "Just take what you want without bothering too much about my needs." Methos stroked the Highlander's cheekbones a couple of times with his thumbs before turning away and helping himself to the bottle of champagne in the cooler, the butler had so considerately placed on the nightstand.

Now it was Duncan's turn to walk around the room. Thinking of it, Duncan had to admit to himself the indications had been there. The Scot had to agree that their sex always had been mind-blowing. Methos certainly was the most sensitive and giving partner he'd ever made love to. The old man almost always seemed to know exactly what Duncan wanted or desired and was more responsive to Duncan's touch than anyone else. Furthermore, going conform with the Highlander's subconscious needs to top more than to bottom, Methos placed himself more often than not at the receiving end of Duncan's cock. The Highlander had never thought of Methos as the caring and completely selfless lover he was presenting himself during their lovemaking. Who'd have thought that the bitchy, ill-mannered cynic could be like that? Dominating this receptive man in bed was surely a tempting offer. One which Duncan wasn't convinced he'd be able to handle perfectly controlled once it was given. Methos had this way of provoking him to the bone with his smart-ass comments. A sudden thought occurred to him... "Methos? Do you like pain?" Duncan's tone was satisfactorily neutral.

The older Immortal, who had settled down on the bed, didn't look up from his glass. He shrugged. "Not particularly, but if you want to cause it, I'll submit," he stated flatly. "I suppose this is the essence of what I was trying to tell you for the last thirty minutes."

Sarcasm again. Sarcasm was good; it was familiar. Duncan nodded, more to himself than to his lover. Still, there was one more thing. "Methos, if I want something that really squicks you? Don't we need safe-words?"

The older Immortal just grinned a little coyly. "Duncan, first of all and most importantly we are immortal. And second of all, believe me, you could never do something that would actually hurt or squick me. It's not in your nature."

The Highlander sighed soundly and quickly closed the distance between them, grabbed Methos' glass and downed it. "Okay, then. Get yourself undressed."

Methos didn't even move so much as to twitch a finger. "Are we gonna have sex now?"

"That was the basic idea, yes." After a pause he added wickedly, "And don't expect it to be gentle. Not after all the stunts you pulled today."

The old man frowned and sounded puzzled. "Hmmm, is it just me or did we have this tiny arrangement of you speaking German during sex?"

That was the last straw. The old man was practically asking for it. "Ich glaube, der Befehl war ausziehen." With that Duncan grabbed the smaller man by his shoulders and catapulted him off the bed and face first against the wall. The older Immortal barely had enough time to turn his face sideways in order to save his remarkable nose from being smashed. He gave a low grunt as the force of the impact drove all the air out of his lungs. Duncan used the short moment of paralysis to grab Methos' wrists and twist them on the old man's back. To his surprise and slight shock Duncan realized how hard he had become within the last few moments. Apparently, Methos had given him exactly what he needed - again. He thrust his hips firmly against his lover's tight ass only to make sure Methos was aware of his extremely aroused state.

The Scot grasped both of the old man's surprisingly slim wrists in his left hand and thereby was able to undo first his own and then Methos' jeans with his now free right hand to get rid of them. Duncan bent forward and breathed into his lover's right ear. "Für dich hoffe ich, daß ich hier irgendwo ein Betriebsmittel finden kann."

For a second nothing happened. Then Methos began to tremble with giggles. "Betriebsmittel," he gasped between fits of uncontrolled laughter. Duncan had enough of being teased and gave a sudden upward jerk to Methos arms, causing the still laughing figure to yelp in discomfort. The old man inhaled deeply. "Für den Fall, daß du *Gleitmittel* gemeint hast, würde ich es an deiner Stelle mal in dem großen Kasten am Bett versuchen. So wie ich Lu kenne, ist jeder Raum bestens ausgestattet."

Unwilling to let go of the still slightly grinning Immortal one more time and regardless of the old man's grunts of protest, he dragged him along to said chest and opened it with his right hand. Well-equipped was hardly beginning to cover the content of the finely polished wooden chest. Duncan didn't even want to know what most of the items were used for. Nevertheless, he found the lubricant.

Duncan pushed Methos back against the wall and opened the bottle with his teeth. "Verbreitern Sie Ihre Beine," he ordered sternly. Somehow the Scot got the notion that the choking and panting Methos gave wasn't directly related to the sexual tension in the room. And despite the fact that the old man almost broke both his shoulders, he slowly slid down the wall. Duncan had no idea what was so funny but he was determined to end the helpless and most annoying laughter, anyway. He placed the opened bottle on the nightstand, next to the champagne cooler and put his right arm around Methos' neck, using the headlock to pull him back up.

The moment Duncan released his lover's neck from the strong grip, Methos came up fiercely for air and turned with a forced smile to him. "Du kannst ruhig beim Du bleiben, Mac."

Duncan ignored him. "Deine Beine, Methos," he said warningly. For once Methos obeyed him without delay, probably perceiving that the time for jokes was over. Duncan quickly coated his straining erection, not bothering to prepare his lover in any way. He wanted it rough, he had said so himself, Duncan calmed himself. "Beiße *deine* Zähne zusammen," he directed a little maliciously, before he parted the ancient Immortal's buttocks with the fingers of his right hand.

The Highlander felt Methos tensing in pain as he entered him with one long, powerful thrust. Oh God, Methos felt so good around him. So wonderfully tight, and hard, and simply perfect. He just stood there and enjoyed the indescribable feeling for a few seconds.

A trickle of blood trailing down Methos' chin caught his attention. As if to make up for the harsh pain he had inflicted, he lovingly kissed it away.

"Ich weiß," Duncan replied and began moving, slowly rocking back and forth. After a few pushes, Duncan reached around the older Immortal and began stroking the to his relief weeping cock he found there. Methos really seemed to like this sort of sex. He had to smile at his next thought, though. "Was sagen die Deutschen eigentlich zu 'cock', Methos? 'Hahn'?"

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Duncan spotted the cooler and the ice-cubes in it. An idea formed in his mind. A vicious idea. With an enormous amount of will-power he slipped out of his lover and - accompanied by Methos' noisy and colorful complaints - reached over with his right arm and fumbled for a large piece of ice.

As soon as Methos comprehended what the Highlander had in mind with the cube, the complaining stopped instantly and was substituted with not very inventive threats. "MacLeod, no. I mean it! You do this and you're dead," Methos said in a very convincing imitation of an attempt of intimidation.

The Scot said nothing, much too occupied with enjoying that he had managed to catch Methos off guard so completely. The world's oldest man just wanted to start talking again when Duncan touched him with the ice cube at the base of his spine and slowly let it glide down his lover's back. The old man flinched and gasped before he caught himself and said nothing more until the Highlander had reached the cleft between his buttocks. "Duncan, please," Methos breathed.

The Scot was impressed. The old man was almost begging him but it was too late now for second thoughts. Besides, hadn't Methos himself made it very clear half an hour ago that he wanted to be dominated? He circled Methos opening a couple of times with the ice before finally slipping it inside, causing the other Immortal to gasp once more. Duncan used his right index finger to push the cube further inside till a distinct tremor told him the ice had reached the old man's prostate. He removed his finger and saw Methos bite down on his freshly healed lower lip again, his eyes firmly closed.

The Highlander bent forward and kissed both of the shut eyelids before moving south and capturing Methos' mouth. The ancient Immortal let himself be distracted from the agonizing cold in his rectum and kissed him back equally hungry.

More gently this time, Duncan pushed back inside his lover and now had to gasp himself as the tip of his cock connected with the still not completely melted ice cube. The combined stimulation of Methos heat and the coolness of the cube nearly send him over the edge immediately.

The old man pushed back on his shaft, longing for the feeling of Duncan fucking him. "Please," he whispered again and this time the Highlander met his unspoken wish and took a hold of Methos erection again. It wasn't long now before they both couldn't hold back anymore, and Duncan bit down hard on Methos' right shoulder, drawing blood. But lost in his own orgasm, the ancient Immortal barely seemed to notice the pain.

Later, after having showered and freed the wall from the evidence of their lovemaking, they lay in bed together. Duncan on his side, Methos on his back in front of him. The Scot held a glass of the champagne and was by turns taking a sip for himself and offering the glass to the ancient Immortal. With his free hand, the Highlander idly drew patterns on the old man's still naked chest. Methos was a sensualist to the bone, practically purring under his soft touches, eyes closed, totally and utterly relaxed. He looked for all the world like a satisfied and well-sated cat. Duncan loved these quiet moments after their sex almost as much as the act itself.

"This." He gestured about the room, then remembered that his lover couldn't see it. "Our stay here. Your... revelation."

The world's oldest Immortal sighed softly. "Oh, I don't know. I wanted to visit Lu since I knew where he lived now. And when I learned that we were driving from Berlin to Bavaria... Well, it just sprang to mind."

"Didn't want to disappoint you. You seemed to be looking forward to that Beer-thingie."

The hazel eyes finally opened and fixed on him, a fine smile on Methos' lips. "Sure you are. But didn't I make up for it?" the ancient Immortal asked teasingly and pushed himself up on one elbow to kiss Duncan passionately, before resuming his former position.

The Highlander stared at the peaceful form for a few moments. Maybe when he was five thousand years himself he would understand the complicated and most complex patterns this ancient brain worked in sometimes.

"Methos, I don't like being manipulated like this." Again, it was no accusation.

His lover grinned a little. "I know. But you're so easy to manipulate and it's just so much fun to do so," the world's oldest schemer said almost apologetically and Duncan simply had to laugh.

"Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with you, old man." His caressing fingers had reached Methos' face and were gently moving over Methos' brows now.

"Well, for beginners, I liked what you did tonight," the ancient Immortal replied challengingly.

But Duncan didn't feel like playing at the moment. "Why, Methos? Why do you like to be handled like this?"

The expressive eyes opened once more, suspiciously this time. "Don't tell me you didn't like what we did."

"No," Duncan shook his head. "I liked it but why did you like it? Some of the things I did must have been pretty unpleasant," he finished, thinking about the ice cube.

A shrug of a shoulder and the eyes went close again. "Not sure. Maybe it's because I was in control too often. Been there, done that, you know? Giving up this control can be very... stimulating. Very arousing, really. Maybe I show it to you sometimes. Can we go to sleep now, Mac? I'm old, I need my beauty sleep," Methos concluded almost in a whine and Duncan knew the attempt to close the subject for what it was.

"Of course, my love. Whatever you wish," the Highlander answered gently, got rid of the glass and switched off the lights. They were immortal, after all, they had a lot of time to talk about anything. Forever, if anything worked out has Duncan hoped it would.

"Hmm?" The world's oldest Immortal had sprawled on the hammock they had installed on the front porch and was indulged in reading Whitman on an e-book. A few months ago, when Methos had bought this particular piece of technology, Duncan had pointed out that it wasn't very traditional to read Whitman on an e-book. Methos had answered that destroying the rain forest by slaughtering all the trees to make paper from them wasn't very traditional either. That had shut the Scot up.

"Remember the few days we spent in Germany a couple of years ago because of this beer-convention we never made it to? The patron-channel just sent me an e-mail..."