I Already Do

| Chez Emma | Nikki’s Room | Nikki’s Directory |

This story is my birthday present to Emma. I even managed to surprise her with it this afternoon. It has been such a pleasure getting to know Emma and she has been so generous with her time and advice, that I couldn’t let the day go by without something special to mark its passing. Thank you, Emma, for everything. Enjoy this little story. I suppose this could be considered a prequel to the Fun & Games universe, but I wasn’t trying to put it there. In any case, it’s similar in style and tone. A huge thanks to Caitlin, too, btw, for giving me a couple of days off from her PWP to put this together. She’s being so patient with the PWP gone out of control.... And I can’t forget to thank Woif for nagging so nicely and reading it over for me. I really appreciate it, Woif. Okay, here’s the disclaimer I always forget. This is a m/m story, and, yes, there’s some sex in it. If you don’t like slashy sex, or if you’re not at least 18, then delete this story now. Richie and Methos aren’t mine, of course, although they seem to have made themselves right at home in my spare bedroom. Not trying to steal them (don’t have to - they just keep hanging around!) and not making any money from this. Since I was trying to surprise my beta reader, this hasn’t actually been beta’d. The idea for this story came from a song called “I Already Do” on Chely Wright’s Don’t Fence Me In CD. I just stuck the words throughout the story instead of putting them at the beginning or the end. IF you want them for whatever reason, let me know. Feedback, please. Muses and I love it, you see. Email Nikki. Enjoy!

I ALREADY DO

by Nikki

Caution’s in the wind.
The hardest part is through.
You don’t have to try so hard to make me fall for you.
I’ve surprised myself With what I’ve gone and done.
Yesterday I heard myself swear you were the one.

Richie gave the armoire one final swipe with the stain-coated brush and stepped back to admire his work. Perfect. Two weeks of stripping and sanding and staining was all it had taken to get the antique looking like new again. One more night for the finish to dry, and the piece could take its place in his bedroom.

No, not his bedroom anymore, Richie thought with a smile. Their bedroom. Sure, Methos still had his own apartment, but more often than not Methos spent the night in Richie’s bed. It had taken all of Richie’s nerve to buy a toothbrush one day a couple of months back, just so it “happened” to be available the first time Methos forgot his. A toothbrush, a razor, an empty drawer now completely stuffed with t-shirts and sweaters — dozens of tiny steps in Richie’s campaign to create a home for his lover before the next attack of wanderlust took him away.

The presence of another immortal brought him spinning around, but he relaxed when he saw it was only MacLeod come to check on him. “What do you think, Mac?”

“It’s beautiful, Rich. You did a great job.”

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

Duncan’s lips pursed briefly before widening into a rueful smile, “Of course he will.”

Richie frowned, “Mac...”

Duncan shook his head, “Richie, it’s all right.”

“I know you don’t really approve...”

Meeting the younger man’s gaze, Duncan explained, “It isn’t that I don’t approve. I’m just not used to it, that’s all. Of all of the things I imagined for you, your falling in love with Methos never crossed my mind. But the most important thing is for you to be happy, and I’ve never seen you as happy as when you’re with him.”

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Mac.”

“He feels the same way about you, Rich.”

“Not yet. But he will.”

“Richie, trust me. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s in love with you.”

“He wants me,” Richie disagreed, “but I can live with that for now.”

Duncan’s expression said he wanted to argue, but all he said was, “I’ll bring the armoire by your place around noon, all right?”

“That’s great, Mac. Thanks.” Giving Duncan’s arm an affectionate pat, Richie headed for the dojo showers. If he hurried, he would be there when Methos got home.

Laugh — I just have to laugh.
I really thought you knew.
I can’t believe
That you’re asking me
When I will love you.
I already do.
I already do.

As the traffic in front of him came to yet another standstill, Methos ground his teeth in frustration. He should have been home half an hour ago. This traffic jam made the perfect ending to an already terrible day. He’d awakened to find that Richie had already left for the dojo, but only after having used the last of the hot water. He’d narrowly escaped an accident with a motorist that ran a red light, but had been unable to avoid getting cornered by the head of the English department and roped into speaking at a conference later in the fall. It wasn’t until he finally got a break to eat that he’d realized his lunch was still sitting on the kitchen counter at Richie’s apartment. He’d locked his briefcase in his office, along with his keys, and it had taken him almost an hour to get housekeeping to let him back in. Because he’d left late, he was now embroiled in the snarl of evening traffic. The line of cars finally inched toward the turnoff to his own apartment, but Methos did not take it. There was nothing for him there except frozen dinners and an empty bed. What he really needed was just over the next hill, and it was worth the wait.

Methos smiled for the first time that day as he contemplated the delights of coming home to a cold beer and a warm hug from his lover. Even though he had been running tame in Richie’s apartment for months, those luxuries were something he never took for granted. Richie was slowly coming to terms with their relationship, and soon Methos hoped he would be able to abandon the pretense of a separate residence. He was tempted to just show up on Richie’s doorstep with the furniture that remained in his unused apartment and move himself in, but it had to be Richie’s decision. And, one slow step at a time, that decision was being made.

First a toothbrush, then a razor had taken up residence in Richie’s bathroom. Next the one percent milk he preferred began appearing in the refrigerator alongside Richie’s two percent, and his favorite coffee mug was waiting beside a fresh pot of coffee each morning. A few of his books nestled between Richie’s on the shelves in the living room, and his favorite shirts were crammed beside Richie’s in the bedroom closet. It hadn’t been long before they’d found themselves changing the sheets often enough that they’d gone out and bought a few extra sets.

What they really needed, Methos thought, was a bigger bed. The full sized mattress that sagged slightly in the middle was cozy, but his toes hung off the edge. Not that there was room in the bedroom for anything larger than a full sized bed. They could barely walk on either side of the bed as it was.

Methos considered for a moment, then acknowledged for the hundredth time that ultimately they would need a larger apartment, as well. Even though they shared a bedroom, a spare room would come in handy for the computer, the weight bench, their books. Not to mention that they might occasionally have guests spend the night. Unlike MacLeod, who seemed content with going back and forth between the couch and the bed depending on who was staying with him at any given moment, Methos knew he had no intention of giving up their bed, and their privacy, for anyone.

The other drawback to their current apartment was the tiny bathroom. The shower stall was barely large enough for the two of them to stand as close together as physically possible. He could have lived with the shower — it was no hardship having to plaster himself up against Richie while they bathed — but there was no bathtub. They had shared the bathtub in Methos’ apartment a few times, but it was shallow and only about five feet long. No, they needed a much larger bathroom with a very deep, very long bathtub, possibly one with some jacuzzi jets as well.

Their own place. A house that they had chosen together. Methos fought to control the wave of longing that swept through him. It was getting harder every day to be patient, to let Richie dictate the progress of their relationship. There were times when Methos caught a look, felt something in Richie’s touch, and was certain that Richie loved him. But the words remained unspoken, and Methos would not risk ruining what had become the most precious thing in his life.

Methos felt a familiar calm settling over him as he turned into the driveway of the apartment complex. His lips curved into a smile and the last of the tension eased from his shoulders when the buzz jangled through his system a few feet from the apartment door. Turning his key in the lock, Methos waited until the door was open before he called, “Honey, I’m home.”

Richie came out of the kitchen wearing an apron tied around his waist and a grin every bit as wide as Methos’ own. “Hey, Meth. How was your day?”

“Terrible.”

Lines of worry appeared on Richie’s forehead, but he smoothed them out before pressing Methos back against the door with enough force to close it and taking his mouth in a stirring kiss. Releasing Methos’ mouth reluctantly, Richie pulled back far enough to see his lover’s face. “How do you feel now?”

Licking his lips, Methos replied, “Much better.” The aroma drifting from the kitchen finally caught Methos’ attention, and he sniffed the air appreciatively. “Is that spaghetti?”

“Yeah. Take your coat off and come tell me about your day while I get the garlic bread in the oven.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Tossing his coat over a dining room chair, Methos allowed himself to be drawn into the homecoming routine. Nothing else that had happened during the day mattered as much as this time alone with Richie, he realized. He would do whatever he had to do, wait as long as Richie needed him to wait, to make sure that moments like these were something he had to look forward to every day and not just memories that tormented him with what could have been.

You’ve been doing fine.
Please don’t change a thing.
It’s too good to hide away,
So I might as well come clean.
I didn’t shout it out,
But everybody knew.
Funny you’re the only one
Who never had a clue.

The following day Methos contrived to leave campus a full hour early. He had manufactured an appointment as an excuse to cut his office hours short, not that any of his students had even cared. He did actually have an appointment of sorts, although his plan to start making love to Richie the second he got home from the dojo and to keep them both occupied all night wasn’t exactly the kind of thing the dean would be pleased to see on his daily calendar.

He was surprised to see the motorcycle parked in its usual place when he arrived at the apartment complex. Richie shouldn’t have been home for at least forty-five minutes. At the earliest. Confused, but not displeased, Methos hurried to keep his “appointment”.

At first there was no sign of Richie in the apartment, but a thud and a curse indicated that Richie was on, or at least had been on, the couch. Methos smiled when a sleep-tousled and slightly bruised head appeared over the back of the couch. Richie would have stood up, but Methos waved him back down. “Stay there.”

Dropping his briefcase and coat on a convenient spot on the floor, Methos grabbed a beer from the fridge and joined Richie in the living room. His lover was once more sprawled on the huge leather sofa, his arms opened to receive a five thousand year old blanket. Methos did not hesitate to take his accustomed resting place. It wasn’t exactly what he’d planned, but it was hard to complain about having Richie’s chest under his cheek and Richie’s arms wrapped securely around him.

Methos awakened slowly almost an hour later. He stretched an arm out for the forgotten beer on the coffee table, and considered his options. It was tempting to stay right where he was. The nap had refreshed him, however, and some parts of him were now feeling quite a bit perkier than when he had first arrived home. Given the rapid hardening of his body, it was unlikely the just cuddling would content him for long. With Richie still out cold, however, Methos was reluctant to disturb what was clearly some much needed rest. Dropping a light kiss on Richie’s chest, Methos eased carefully out of Richie’s arms and headed towards the bedroom. A shower would complete the waking up process, and afterwards he could fix them something to eat.

Something was different, Methos thought as soon as he walked into the bedroom. His eyes searched the room, but everything seemed to be in its place. Sighing at his own inexplicable tension, Methos crossed to the dresser and reached automatically into one of his drawers for a clean pair of boxers. When his hand found slightly rough wood instead of soft cotton, Methos looked at the drawer for the first time.

It was empty.

A ball of dread weighting his stomach, Methos opened the other two drawers Richie had cleared out for him and found them equally bare. What had Richie done with his things?

Breathe, Old Man, Methos ordered himself as he made a more thorough study of the room’s contents. Bed. Table. Weight bench. Armoire.

Armoire?

It blended so well with the other furniture in the room that Methos had not noticed the armoire right away. Hard to miss such a bloody big piece of furniture, Methos scolded himself, approaching the armoire with trepidation. The gleaming finish cried out for his touch, and he could not resist a brief caress across the wooden surface, then another. He forced himself to stop stroking the wood and open the doors of the chest. His shirts hung in an orderly row inside, free of the tangle of Richie’s growing wardrobe. He pulled out the drawers below and was not surprised to find his underwear, socks, and t-shirts neatly folded inside.

His hands were shaking, but Methos managed to close the armoire with a minimum of noise. His own closet.

It was beautiful. Perfect, really. Exactly what he would have chosen for himself.

But he hadn’t chosen it, Methos thought. Richie had made the decision, had probably even repaired and refinished the piece himself. But however lovely the antique was, the fact still remained that Richie had been feeling crowded enough to want some space of his own. You’re being ridiculous, Methos told himself. He’s exiling you from his closet, not his life!

Exile.

Methos whirled around, unable to look at the evidence he had pushed Richie too hard any longer. When he opened his eyes, he found Richie leaning against the doorframe, watching him.

“Do you like it?” the younger man asked quietly.

Methos opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again. “Yes.”

He watched every muscle in Richie’s body tense, and knew that his lover was reading between the lines as clearly as usual. Shit. Methos forced a smile onto his face and tried to reassure Richie. “There’s a lot more room for my things now. I hadn’t realized I had so much stuff over here.” Because he was babbling now, Methos was helpless to stop the next words from tumbling out with the rest. “I didn’t mean to crowd you, Rich.”

Crowd him? Where had that come from? Richie saw the flicker of hurt Methos sought to conceal by digging into the drawers of the armoire once more. It was still there when the older man produced the pair of boxers he had originally come for and said, “I need a shower.”

“Methos, what’s going on?”

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Yeah, I got that. But not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Richie...”

“Tell me, damn it!”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course I do!”

“I hate being patient sometimes! I hate waiting!”

“Waiting for what?”

“For you to love me!” Methos’ jaw clamped shut the instant the words were out, but they still echoed in the room.

Richie couldn’t have spoken in the seconds following Methos’ outburst even if his mind had been capable of forming a complete sentence. Methos’ words had shaken him all the way to the core. As if from a distance he could hear Methos trying to fill the silence with explanations.

“I don’t want to pressure you, Richie. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Sometimes I just wish I had some idea when...”

“When I would love you?” Richie asked incredulously, freed from his temporary paralysis.

Methos nodded.

For a moment Richie had no outward reaction at all, but soon great peals of laughter erupted from deep inside him. Tears streamed down his face as mirth rocked him.

Methos flinched at the sound, then shoved Richie into a nearby wall on his way out of the room.

Richie sobered abruptly and he raced to catch up with his angry lover. “Meth, I’m sorry.”

Methos stopped in the hallway, but did not turn around.

“Honestly, Methos, I’m sorry. I just thought you knew.”

“Knew what, exactly?”

“That I already love you.”

Methos rotated slowly to face Richie. “You love me?”

“Yes!” When Methos still looked disbelieving, Richie took a couple of steps forward and repeated, “Yes, Methos.” His lips curved in a tender smile. “Everyone else figured it out, I assumed you had, too.”

Methos’ shoulders slumped as the tension seeped from his body. “I had no idea.”

“I can see that. I guess it worked a little too well.”

“What did?”

“My plan.”

“Plan?” Methos asked sternly, arching an eyebrow for emphasis.

“It was stupid, I guess. I had this idea that if I got you moved in here a little bit at a time it wouldn’t seem like such a big deal. And once we were living together all the time, I thought you might want to stay here. Then, when you were really comfortable, I could tell you I loved you and you might not take off right away.”

“Richie,” Methos groaned, “that was a really dumb idea.” He hesitated, but then added, “But that makes the both of us idiots, because I came up with almost the same plan.”

“You did?”

“Oh, yes. I can’t tell you how many times I almost rented a truck and just moved myself in here, but I didn’t want to rush you into anything you weren’t ready for.”

“I’m ready.”

Methos’ eyes brightened with his smile. “I can see that.” His mouth opened and closed as he searched for the right way to phrase his next question, but Richie made it unnecessary.

“If you don’t like this place, we could find something different. This just seemed better than, well...”

“Than my place?”

“Umm, yeah.”

“I like this place.”

“But...”

“But it’s really too small if we’re going to settle in for a while.”

Richie’s breath caught as he allowed himself to hope he was hearing Methos correctly. “Settle? But you never seem to stay in one place very long.”

“It’s been a long time since I had a reason to stay.”

“Now you do.”

“Yes. Now I do.” Methos continued, “There are places I want to show you, and the passage of time will force us to move on eventually, but if this is where you need to be right now, then I need to be here, too. I love you.”

“Say that again.”

The roughness of Richie’s voice sent a little thrill though Methos as he obeyed his partner’s command. “I love you.”

The vulnerability was back for a moment when Richie admitted, “I was so afraid you never would.”

“You are everything I want, the only thing that matters, Richie. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Richie answered, eyes shining.

“Then what are you doing way over there?”

Richie’s tone was matter of fact when he answered, but his words sent blood rushing heavily to all of the sensitive parts of Methos’ body. “If I touch you now, I’ll take you right here. I thought you might prefer the bed.”

There was confidence now, instead of fear, Methos realized. Boldness, rather than embarrassment. No lingering insecurities, just passion so intense it might burn him alive. What a difference the words had made, for both of them. “Anywhere. Anytime,” he replied, his voice thick with his own desire.

“Here,” Richie decided. “Now.”

“Yes,” Methos breathed, reaching for Richie.

I gave you my heart
Can’t you feel the power?
You want to see the light,
But baby the sun’s been up for hours.

One heartbeat they were separated by a cushion of “personal space”, and the next they were wrapped around each other. Lips met and held, tongues tangling inside the seamless joining of their mouths. Richie finally tore free in an instinctive search for oxygen, but then found himself faced with the dilemma of whether to reclaim Methos’ mouth or explore new territory. Methos took the decision out of Richie’s hands, however, when he caught Richie’s lower lip between his teeth and began to nibble gently.

Richie was too hungry to be teased, however. He used his own teeth to bite back, not quite as gently, and he growled his satisfaction when the kiss turned ravenous once more. His arms held him as close to Methos as possible, but it wasn’t enough. Richie craved the contact of skin on skin. Richie’s t-shirt had proved no barrier to Methos’ seeking hands, but the buttons on Methos’ shirt were proving difficult for Richie’s fingers to manage in the heat of his passion. He ended the kiss a second time and yanked his t-shirt over his head, then turned his focus back to Methos’ stubborn buttons.

The elder immortal brushed Richie’s hands aside and took over the task himself, one lazy buttonhole at a time. Richie tolerated the delay for all of thirty seconds before he reached through and pulled the shirt open, sending buttons pinging across the hall floor.

“I liked that shirt!” Methos grumbled as Richie tugged the sleeves off of his arms.

“You want to save your shirts, then get them off faster,” Richie responded, taking a tiny bite out of Methos’ shoulder and grazing his thumbs across Methos’ nipples.

Methos’ approval rumbled in his chest as Richie convinced him that any shirt that delayed such pleasure definitely belonged in the rag bag. When he felt Richie’s hand on the button of his jeans, however, he backed away. “You’re in a hurry,” he replied to Richie’s inquiring look. “And this involves some parts of me that would rather not go bouncing across the floor when you’re done.”

Richie chuckled, and watched eagerly as his lover’s jeans made their careful descent. When the boxers followed, he spared a moment simply to admire the sight of Methos’ erection rising proudly from its nest of curls.

“What are you waiting for?” Methos asked, reminding Richie that he still had his own sweatpants on.

Richie hooked his fingers inside the waistband and pushed them quickly down. He smiled to hear Methos gasp when the elder realized the all obstacles to his view had been removed. Surprise, Old Timer.

“You have a whole drawer full of underwear...”

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” Methos declared instantly, reaching for the hardened member begging for his attention. He tried to keep the rhythm of his strokes slow, but finally he succumbed to Richie’s pleas and quickened the pace. His own cock began receiving similar attention from Richie, and the idea of speedy release began to seem incredibly wise.

Richie gauged Methos’ rising passion and decided to move things along. With one quick, hard kiss he freed himself from Methos’ grasp and picked Methos’ coat up off the floor. As he had expected, there was a tube of lube in the inside pocket. Waving it at Methos, he beckoned his lover to come closer. He cast an eye at the couch, thinking they might need a pillow, but it was too far away. Looking around the immediate vicinity, Richie decided Methos’ coat and the pile of their clothes would just have to be good enough. He knelt down and began arranging the pile of clothes into as comfortable of a cushion as possible and covered it all with Methos’ coat.

“I’m going to have to dry clean that coat. Again.”

Richie grinned up at Methos. “You mind?”

“No. God, no,” Methos moaned as Richie dragged him to his knees and then pressed him back onto the floor. His breath snagged in his chest as one lubed finger eased its way past his tight opening. When it was followed by a second, and then a third digit that scissored and thrust inside him, he forgot about breathing altogether. All he could do was catch brief gasps of air as each new sensation splintered through him.

When Richie removed his fingers and slid his weeping arousal into Methos’ snug passage, he made an effort to take it slow. His eyes absorbed each nuance of his partner’s reaction, wanting to savor rather than ravish, but too soon his own need sent him headlong into an ever quickening rhythm. In the final moments before he hurtled over the edge, Richie added a few strokes of his hand to ensure that Methos tumbled with him into ecstasy. They exploded together, and they stayed together long after the storm had passed.

Laugh — I just have to laugh.
I really thought you knew.
I can’t believe
That you’re asking me
When I will love you.
I already do.
I already do.

Methos angled his head up to see Richie’s face and asked, “How did you know I had lube in my coat pocket?”

“I saw you put it there this morning.” Richie’s laughter vibrated against Methos’ chest. “I knew that meant you were going to attack me the second you walked through the door this afternoon.”

“That explains the sweats. But it doesn’t explain why you were sleeping when I got home instead of waiting with bated breath.”

“Hey, I was moving furniture all morning. I needed some rest to make sure I had enough energy for tonight.”

“Since you’re so well rested, I’ll let you scrub my back,” Methos offered, rising and dragging them both to the bathroom.

“With pleasure,” Richie agreed.

Methos flipped on the bathroom light and they surveyed the tiny room.

“We have got to get a bigger bathroom in our next place, Meth,” Richie observed.

“Yep,” Methos concurred. “A much bigger pne.”

The End