| Chez Emma
| Nikki’s Room
| Nikki’s Directory
|
This story began as an idea the muses simply would not let go of, and ended up as a story for AC’s birthday. Happy Birthday, AC!! I hope you had a wonderful day! The story was heavily influenced by a song performed by Diamond Rio called One More Day. (Lyrics to follow story.) Basically, the boyz get a day to spend together. Some sap, some sex, even some minor angst. We had a good time in the end. Not mine, not sure I’d want them even if they were, considering all the crap they gave me this weekend. No profit made off of either of them, more’s the pity. M/M situations, so don’t read this if that’s not your cup of tea or you’re underage. Oh, and consider
yourself warned, this has not been beta’d. Any and all mistakes are all mine. Feedback makes the muses and I very happy. Please direct it to me. Enjoy the story!!
ONE MORE DAY
by Nikki
“Choose, Methos,” the terrible voice boomed in his mind.
Methos could not tear his eyes away from the image of his own head rolling off of his neck as a sword stroke followed through. “That’s how it ends?” he accused the voice.
“How did you think it was going to end?” the voice asked dryly.
“I don’t know... I just never thought....”
“Immortals never do. Astonishing, really, considering how regularly we engage in mortal combat. Still, one of us gets our head chopped off and it’s as though we’ve never heard of the concept before.”
For once Methos didn’t rise to the bait, instead clarifying, “I get one more day?”
“Yes,” the voice agreed.
“And I can do whatever I want?”
“Whatever. Wherever. With whoever.” The voice sighed impatiently, then pressed, “How do you want to spend your last day?”
Methos didn’t even hesitate. “I want to spend it with Richie.”
“There’s no safety in numbers, you know. He can’t interfere it what is to come.”
“I know that, damn it!” Methos snapped.
“Just checking,” the voice replied, its tone softening slightly. “So where do you want to go?”
“Go?”
“You said you wanted to spend the day with Richie. Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”
“I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want to ‘do’ anything. I just want to be with him. Nothing else matters.”
There was a pause as the voice considered Methos’ words. “So be it. The choice is made. You have one day to spend with Richie. I hope you make the most of it.”
Between one heartbeat and the next Methos was wide awake, his heart racing. Where the hell had he been? He’d clearly been asleep, but it felt like more than a dream. His arms tightened around the body sprawled across his chest. Dream or
premonition, something was telling him to spend more time with Richie, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
MacLeod could probably be persuaded to give his assistant the day off. If the Scot proved as stubborn as usual, then he’d just hang around the dojo with Richie until closing. The important thing was just spending some time together. Gods knew, they hadn’t had nearly enough of that lately.
Just thinking about how hectic both of their lives had been for the last month made him exhausted all over again. The only time they’d been in the same place at the same time was between 2 am and 6 am when they were both sleeping.
I’m immortal, damn it, Methos groused to himself. I’m supposed to have all kinds of time. I’m not supposed to be running around like a headless
chicken doing everything except what I really want to do.
After a mental sigh for his own blind obedience to the dictates of modern life, Methos slipped back into sleep with his resolve firmly set. Tomorrow was for Richie,
and only Richie, whether it was their last day or the first of many more to come.
“It’s good to see you, Richie,” the brown-robed figure smiled. “It’s been
too long.”
“Hi, Darius,” Richie replied, wondering how he’d gotten to St. Julien’s, when the last thing he remembered was collapsing into bed next to Methos. “How have you been?”
“Well, thank you,” the older immortal acknowledged. “Probably better than you, in fact. You’ve been through a lot the last few years.”
“You can say that again!” Richie agreed wholeheartedly. He thought back, remembering all that had happened since Darius’ death.“I don’t even know where to start.”
“You don’t have to,” Darius assured him. “I know where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through.”
“It’s not exactly what I expected,” Richie shrugged. “But, hey, at least I kept my head, right?”
“You’ve done more than just stay alive, Richie,” Darius admonished. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I didn’t emerge from a lamp in a cloud of smoke, but, for tonight, at least, I am a kind of genie. Because of you.”
“Because of me? What did I do?” Richie asked, confused.
“It’s not so much what you did, as what you didn’t do. You’ve faced the darkness, borne its consequences, but it did not consume you. The light in your soul still shines as bright as ever.”
“The light in my soul? Come on, Darius, give me a break.”
Darius sighed. “Just because it sounds a little... what’s the term... corny?... doesn’t mean it isn’t true, Richie.”
“I know, but....” Richie still didn’t sound convinced.
“You have been bullied and buffeted by the fates and come through with your goodness intact,” Darius insisted, “and so you have been granted one wish.”
“A wish? Just because I haven’t turned evil?”
“I’d forgotten your tendency to question everything,” Darius replied evenly. “But yes, that’s one way of putting it. A bit oversimplified, but basically accurate.”
“What can I wish for?” Richie asked, curious. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. “Hey, if you’re a genie tonight, don’t I get *three wishes?”
“Richie,” Darius sighed, “you can wish for anything you want. And you only get one wish.”
“All right, all right, I’m sorry. But this is really weird.”
“I understand,” the elder immortal reassured Richie. He was silent for a moment to give Richie time to think, then he pressed, “What will you wish for?”
Richie raised serious blue eyes to Darius’ face. “You know what I really want, more than anything right now? I want a whole day, just me and Methos. No school, no work, no friends — just us.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to wish for? A day alone with Methos doesn’t seem too hard to arrange all on your own.”
“You haven’t been around here lately. It’s been so crazy that Meth and I barely even see each other any more. We make plans to be together, but something always comes up. If I wish for it, though, then it has to come true, right?”
Darius nodded.
“Then if you’re serious, if I really get a wish, that’s what I want. I wish for one whole day alone with Methos.”
Eyes twinkling, Darius grinned. “Your wish is granted.”
“Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, clap your hands in the air,or wiggle your nose, or something?” Richie teased.
Darius shrugged. “I’m not that kind of genie.” A hint of a smile still playing on his lips, he asked Richie, “What are you and Methos going to do on your day together?”
“Not a damned thing, I hope,” Richie sighed wistfully. “I swear, all I really want to do is sit on the couch and just... be together.” Richie blushed lightly before continuing, “I miss him, that’s all.”
“Well tomorrow you won’t have to miss him,” Darius answered. “Enjoy your day, Richie.”
“Thanks. I will.” Richie shook Darius’ hand, then pulled him into a fierce hug. When the embrace ended, he walked out of the dim church and into the light of day where, somewhere, an alarm was ringing.
Richie felt his pillow leaving the bed and groaned. Six am always felt like the middle of the night, even if daylight savings time meant that
the sun was already shining brightly though the window and onto the bed. He’d come to hate it even more since it meant that Methos would be leaving to teach a class. He rolled over and wrapped his arms around Methos’ pillow, a habit now after so many mornings of waking alone, but soon found himself shoved back to his normal side of the bed.
He blinked groggily at his lover. “Meth? Don’t you have class?”
“I called in sick today.”
Richie smiled, more awake now, as he scooted back onto his own pillow. “You did?”
“Yep,” Methos grinned, leaning in to kiss Richie’s forehead, then the tip of his nose. Hovering a breath away from Richie’s lips, he asked, “Think your boss’ll give you the day off, too?”
Humming with anticipation, Richie smiled. “I think Mac can be persuaded to handle the dojo by himself today.” He shifted his head just enough so their lips could meet in a long, slow kiss, the kind they hadn’t had time to share for weeks. Just when the kiss threatened to change from a gentle morning greeting to rising passion, however, he broke away and threw the covers back. “I have to go call Mac,” he explained, steeling himself against the disappointment in the
eyes he loved. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hurry,” Methos urged quietly, loathe to let Richie out of his sight for a moment. He ignored the urge to follow the younger man, and his patience was rewarded when Richie returned, triumphant.
“Mac gave me the day off!” Richie cheered, grinning broadly. His eyes took on a mischievous quality as he continued, “Then I unplugged the phone. I turned our cell phones off, too.”
Staggered, as always, by how beautiful his lover was inside and out, Methos could only say, “I love you, Brat.”
Richie’s smile widened. “I love you, too, Old Timer.”
Methos threw the covers back, and Richie scrambled to get beneath them once more. Sighing happily as he settled into ‘his’ spot on Methos’ shoulder, he lost himself in the feel of Methos’ chest as it rose and fell under his cheek. Before long he drifted back into a contented sleep.
Fighting to stay awake, Methos wanted to savor every moment, but fatigue overwhelmed him. He really only slept well when Richie was there, which had not happened nearly often enough lately, and his body was eager to take advantage of the opportunity. Completely relaxed as he had not been for weeks, Methos allowed himself
to follow Richie into a deep slumber.
10:00 AM
Methos woke to the sound of Richie’s stomach growling. “I guess it’s time for breakfast,” he drawled.
Richie lifted his head immediately. “You’re awake! Good. I’m starving.”
“I can tell,” Methos commented as Richie’s stomach made itself heard once more. “Why didn’t you go eat something?”
“I...” Richie shrugged. “I didn’t want to go anywhere without you. I wanted us to wake up in here together.”
“My favorite way to face a morning,” Methos purred. He watched curiously as Richie got out of bed, opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers. “You going somewhere?”
“Just to the kitchen.”
“You’re getting dressed so you can get some cereal and come back here?”
“No way!” Richie exclaimed, before explaining patiently, “I need real food. Eggs. Bacon. Maybe some french toast, but I haven’t decided.”
“What, you’re worried about making a mess? You’ll wash,” Methos pointed out.
“Yeah, cooking’s messy, but mainly I need some protection, you know? Bacon grease burns.”
Methos laughed. “I’ll take your word for it, Kid. All right, go cook. I’ll be right behind you.”
Richie’s eyes darkened. “Is that a promise?”
“Later,” Methos vowed. “Now get to work.”
Richie saluted smartly, “Yes, sir,” before grabbing a t-shirt from a different drawer and heading for the kitchen.
12:00 PM
“H-12.”
“Miss.”
“It has to be there!” Richie exclaimed.
“No, it doesn’t,” Methos smirked.
Richie eyed his lover suspiciously for a long moment before finally sighing, “All right. Your turn.”
With only the briefest of glances at the array of mostly red, but a few white, pegs on his game board, Methos said, “D-4.”
“How do you do that?” Richie asked, his voice a mixture of admiration and frustration. “You always seem to know right where my ships are.”
“Strategy, Kid,” Methos explained. “It’s all about strategy.”
“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days?” Richie quipped.
“Strategy,” Methos repeated, “and an excellent sense of intuition.”
Richie threw up his hands with a chuckle. “I’m never gonna beat you at this game.” His face brightened noticeably before he suggested, “Let’s play a game I can win.”
“What do you have in mind?” Methos returned, his body hardening expectantly.
“Wait here,” Richie ordered. “I bought something just for a day like this.”
“I won’t move a muscle,” Methos promised huskily.
Richie rolled his eyes. “It’s not that kind of thing, Meth. But it’ll be fun, I promise.”
There was such a hopeful smile on Richie’s face, Methos reined in the sarcastic comment that sprang to his lips. Instead he flashed the smile he knew Richie loved and challenged, “Bring it on, Brat.”
“Now you asked for it,” Richie replied silkily before walking to the hall closet. He fished a turquoise colored box from the bowels of the darkened storage space. Doing his very best Vanna White impersonation, he displayed the fruits of his search to Methos.
Squinting to read the label from a distance, Methos was barely able to make out the words ‘Junior Trivial Pursuit.’ He arched a brow at Richie. “Junior Trivial Pursuit? Did I ever tell you that I have yet to miss a question on the most difficult editions they’ve ever had?”
“You’ve never played this edition before,” Richie came back confidently.
Methos arched a skeptical eyebrow, but said. “Let’s play, by all means. Then, when I win, we can get back to my kind of thing.”
“And when I win?” Richie asked.
“If you win, then we’ll do what you want to do,” Methos offered generously. Win-win situation there, he thought to himself, certain that his mind and Richie’s were on the same wavelength as usual.
“You’re on,” Richie agreed, setting up the board. He started to roll the dice to see who went first, but changed his mind and handed the cubes to Methos. “You can go first.”
The first niggling hint of uncertainty began to tease at Methos’mind, but he pushed it aside. This was going to be a piece of cake. He rolled the dice and moved his pie to a pink space. “Arts and Entertainment, right?”
“Yep,” Richie agreed, glancing down at the card he’d already drawn. His lips quirked impishly as he read the question to himself. He looked squarely at Methos and read seriously, “Who was Strawberry Shortcake’s neighbor?”
Methos could not quite keep the blank expression off of his face.Oh, shit, he thought. This could be a long game.
3:00 PM
“You want me to what?” Methos asked incredulously, having finally been forced to concede defeat after losing three straight games of Junior Trivial Pursuit.
“I want you to read to me,” Richie repeated as though Methos hadn’t already asked the question four times.
The expectant expression remained on Richie’s face while the wary immortal searched for any sign of potential embarrassment in store for him. Reassured that there was no ulterior motive behind Richie’s request, Methos was still confused. “What do you want me to read? I don’t think we have any Dr. Seuss, and I doubt you have any interest in the socio-economic significance of the repeating rifle.” He paused, looking around the room for reading material. “I could read the phone book to you, I suppose.”
“Actually, I think I’ve got something we’ll both like,” Richie grinned.
“Oh?”
Richie knelt down and fumbled underneath the couch. He produced a hardbound book, its jacket still advertising twenty-five percent off.
“Homeport,” Methos read slowly. “Nora Roberts? Who’s that?”
“She’s a writer, Meth,” Richie replied, stating the obvious.
“A... romance novelist?” Methos guessed.
Richie’s cheeks reddened, but he held his ground. “She writes great stories.”
“I’m sure she does,” Methos acknowledged, his skepticism obvious. “How exactly did you, um, discover her?”
“One of the girls in the self defense class at the dojo left a book behind,” Richie admitted, “and I flipped through it to see if the girl had put her name in it or anything. I couldn’t help reading a little of it, and then I just couldn’t put it down.”
“And you’ve been, what, hiding them under the couch? For how long?”
“A couple of months,” Richie answered sheepishly. “It’s taking me a while to get through all of her stuff. She’s written a lot.” Richie’s enthusiasm started to show as he continued, “This is a newer one. It looks really good.”
Richie looked so excited, Methos knew he had no choice. He extended a hand for the book. “Give it here.”
Suddenly reluctant, Richie hesitated. “Meth, you don’t have to.”
Methos felt a tender smile stretching easily across his face. “I want to.” His smile widened. “In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Richie teased. “We’d have probably ended up with some musty old history of Tibet. I’d have been asleep in about two minutes.”
Arching an amused eyebrow, Methos opened the cover to read the opening paragraph to himself. The damp, snapping wind iced the bones through to the marrow. Snow from a storm earlier in the week was piled in irregular hills along the side of the road. The sky was bitter blue. Stern trees with black empty branches rose out of winter-browned grass and shook their limbs like fists against the cold...
“I thought you said this was a romance novel,” he said, surprised.
“Well yeah, but there’s a story to it, too,” Richie reminded Methos.
“We’d better get started, then,” the older man replied, taking a seat on the couch, his back resting against a cushion and his feet propped on the coffee table.
Richie leaned on the opposite arm and let his feet lie across Methos’ thighs. He sighed contentedly when slender fingers reached absently to stroke his legs, and a moment later the reading began.
“The damp, snapping wind iced the bones through to the marrow. Snow from a storm earlier in the week....”
Letting Methos’ voice carry them both into the story, Richie settled more comfortably into the couch to enjoy his prize.
8:00 PM
“The end,” Methos rasped, closing the book.
“That was great!” Richie croaked, his own voice hoarse from taking his turns at reading. “Did you know who the killer was?”
“Yes,” Methos admitted.
“Why am I not surprised?” Richie sighed. Groaning at his stiff muscles, Richie lifted his legs off Methos’ lap and swung them around so his feet hit the floor.
Already missing the contact, Methos asked casually, “What’s next?”
Richie’s stomach growled loudly. “Feed me,” he said, “and then we can do whatever you want.”
“An offer I can’t refuse,” Methos smirked, reaching for Richie’s hand and pulling him to his feet before heading towards the kitchen. He opened and closed cupboards while Richie scoured the fridge. Finally they looked at each other.
“We have really got to go grocery shopping,” Richie moaned, holding his stomach.
“That’s one thing about being busy — the shopping is the first thing to go,” Methos sighed. An idea began to form, and he told his lover, “Go back to the living room. I’ll come up with something and bring it in.”
Sensing the wheels turning in the other man’s mind, Richie felt his pulse jump. Something about watching Methos’ mind work always seemed to get to him. It always amazed him how Methos had a plan for everything.
Hearing the clatter of dishes and silverware reminded Richie that this time Methos’ plan included food, and he began to look for a good place to sit.
Not the couch — they’d spent more than enough time on the couch for one day. None of the chairs were really big enough for two people.... Just when he started to get desperate, Richie spotted the disreputable-looking beanbag chairs that
Methos had insisted on dragging home from a garage sale they’d come across
the weekend before. About the only good thing to be said about them is that they were clean.
They were comfortable, too, Richie realized as he sat gingerly on the nearest one. When he put all of his weight on the bag, however, he slid almost completely off of
it. His arms and back remained against the chair, however, and Richie tentatively settled himself into a lounging position.
Before he had time to change his mind, Methos came into the living room with a tray of food and said, “You read my mind.”
“Don’t I always?” Richie teased, wearing an adapted version of the smirk he loved.
“Close enough,” Methos agreed huskily, setting the tray down on a short table and dragging it over to the beanbag chairs. Sprawling next to Richie, he lost himself for a few moments in the blue eyes shining so close to him. “I love you, Richie.”
That’s the second time he’s said that today. He even said Richie instead of Brat that time, and it’s not our anniversary or anything. “I love you, too, Methos,” he responded seriously, searching the beloved face for some sign that anything was amiss. All he found was love and desire, so he set his concern aside for the time being. What he really wanted to focus on was Methos.
He picked up one slender hand and threaded their fingers together, using the connection to pull the older man closer to him. Bringing Methos’ hand to his lips, Richie kissed each knuckle and said, “You taste good. Maybe I should just have you for dinner.”
“I’m definitely on the menu,” Methos confirmed, “but later.Food first. Then, I think, a bath.”
“I should have known you’d have a plan,” Richie grinned. “You think of everything.” The smell of the food began to distract him, and he asked, “What did you bring to eat?”
“Well, you’ll remember that our supplies are rather limited at the moment,” Methos answered, “so what we have here are crackers, peanut butter, hotdogs with no buns, and the last peach.”
“Sounds good,” Richie replied, reaching for a cracker. Confused when his hand was gently batted away, he looked at his partner for an explanation.
“You told me to feed you,” Methos reminded him. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
A little thrill chased down Richie’s spine, and his body tightened. Trust Methos to take a perfectly innocent remark and turn it into an erotic adventure. At least he was going to actually get fed as well as aroused with this latest brainstorm.
Slanting a sultry look at his lover, Richie leaned farther back into the beanbag and parted his lips. When Methos placed a warm slice of hotdog between them, Richie captured Methos’ fingers along with the offering, flicking the digits with his tongue before releasing them and chewing the meat.
With a small breath of laughter, Methos slid a cracker into Richie’smouth next. He was careful to keep his fingers out of range this time as he scolded his lover gently, “You have to finish your dinner before you get dessert.”
“I’ll be good,” Richie promised, opening his mouth for the next bite.
“You always are,” Methos chuckled, dipping a spoon into the peanut butter jar. With a fairly good imitation of the sound an airplane makes as it flies overhead, he passed the flatware back and forth in front of Richie’s face a few times before allowing Richie to catch it.
Clamping his lips firmly around the entire bowl of the spoon, Richie slid them carefully back along its length, making sure he didn’t leave any of the spread on the spoon. He tongued it sensually for a few moments, the act marred somewhat by
the tendency of the substance to stick to the surfaces of his mouth.
Richie glanced at Methos just in time to see the older man’s lips twitch, and was immediately overcome by his own knowledge of how ridiculous he must look. He fell back, pillowing his head on the beanbag and shuddering with silent laughter even as he tried to clean the last of the peanut butter from his mouth.
“God, that stuff is like glue,” Richie chuckled, making one last pass of his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were clean.
“Let’s move on,” Methos suggested, offering a slice of the peach.
“Mmm, great idea,” Richie agreed, slurping the fruit into his mouth and reveling in the feel of the juice as it slid down his throat.
Methos nearly groaned when his body reacted to the pleasure on Richie’s face as he swallowed. The knowing gleam in the blue eyes when they slitted open, however, stopped him just in time. “You shouldn’t play with your food,” he admonished sternly.
“Well, I’d rather play with you, but... Mmmph,” Richie was cut off as Methos pressed another slice of hotdog between his lips.
They continued that way for the rest of the meal, Richie cracking very poor jokes and Methos stuffing his mouth with food to shut him up. When the tray was empty,
Methos sat back on his heels, took Richie’s hand,and pulled them both to their feet. Handing Richie the tray, he said, “Take this to the kitchen, will you? I’ll start the bath water.”
Richie ignored the request at first, leaning in to give his dinner companion a quick, hard kiss. “Thanks for dinner, Meth,” he said solemnly. “I’ll never forget it.” His usual grin appeared the next instant, and he stole one more kiss and headed for the kitchen.
For a moment Methos couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt, his heart was so full. Nothing Richie could have said to him would have meant more. How typical of Richie to say just the right thing and then act like it was no
big deal.
Drawing a deep breath, Methos forced himself into motion and made his way to the bathroom. It only took a minute to get the water running the right temperature, and
he was debating which, if any, oil he should put in it when Richie came into the room. “Sandalwood or vanilla?” he asked, holding up the bottles.
“Sandalwood,” Richie decided. He started to remove his shirt while Methos added the oil, but a quiet voice stopped him.
“Wait — let me.”
Richie dropped the hem of his shirt and held his hands away from his body. His arms closed around Methos when the other man drew close for a slow, thorough kiss.
When the kiss ended, he raised his arms so Methos could draw the t-shirt over his head. The soft cotton was tossed aside, but Richie stopped Methos from removing
his boxers as well.
“My turn,” he grinned, reaching for the buttons on Methos’ shirt. He took his time, enjoying the way the shirt parted more as each button was released, exposing more and more of Methos’ chest. When the last disk was slipped through its buttonhole, he slid his hands up Methos’ the muscular expanse and pushed the shirt down Methos’ arms.
Hazel eyes gleamed with patient passion as Methos waited for Richie to look his fill at the skin he had bared. When blue orbs rose to his face once more, Methos reached out to slip his hands just inside the waistband of Richie’s boxers. Without a word, he stretched the elastic so it wouldn’t get caught, and drew the shorts down to Richie’s feet. Resting his forehead against Richie’s thigh, his fingers explored the taut muscles of Richie’s calves for a long moment. Finally he pushed forward gently, encouraging Richie to lift first one foot
and then the other out of the material puddled on the floor. Resisting the
temptation to taste the warm flesh so close to him, Methos forced himself
to stand back up.
A broad smile stretched across Richie’s face, knowing what the move had cost his partner. He rewarded his ancient lover by putting aside his own inclination to linger, instead matter-of-factly unbuttoning, unzipping, and removing Methos’ pants and boxers.
“I’ve got to get you naked more often,” the redhead breathed appreciatively.
“You won’t get any argument from me,” Methos returned, the thicknessof his voice speaking more clearly than his words. “We’d better...” he began.
“Get in, yeah,” Richie agreed. “That would be a good idea.”
Methos slipped into the water first, then held out a hand to help Richie in. He rested his neck against the lip of the tub and waited for Richie to settle against
his chest. Sighing contentedly when the curly head settled into the curve of his neck, he wrapped his arms around Richie and let the water lap softly around them. A half hour passed that way, just soaking and breathing, and being together.
“I love you, Richie,” Methos murmured quietly.
All at once water splashed wildly as Richie pulled out of Methos’arms and shifted to sit facing him. “Okay, that’s three.”
“Three?” Methos asked, confused.
“That’s the third time you’ve told me you love me today. What’s going on?”
“I say I love you, and something has to be going on?”
Richie sighed impatiently. “You have never told me you love me three times in one day, Methos. And this time makes twice in the last hour. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Methos was stunned. “I... I don’t know what to say, Richie.” His shoulders slumped back against the porcelain. “I’ve never told you I love you three times in one day? Never?”
“You said it twice on our anniversary,” Richie shrugged, “but that’s not the point. The point is, something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me what it is.”
“On our anniversary,” Methos echoed quietly, sorrow weighing heavily in his chest.
“Methos, focus a little bit here,” Richie ordered. “What is up with you?”
“Nothing,” Methos sighed sadly. “There’s nothing wrong. Nothing’s up. Nothing, except that I’m apparently an even bigger idiot than I realized.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Richie,” Methos apologized. “I didn’t realize I never told you I love you. You deserve to hear it.”
It was Richie’s turn to be surprised. “Meth, I know you love me. I just have to look at you to see it. I feel it every time you touch me. I don’t need the words all the time. That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Richie struggled to put his intuition into words. “It’s just... the way you’ve said it,
or something. It’s almost like you’re saying goodbye, which quite frankly scares the shit out of me. I can’t lose you. I just can’t.”
“You won’t,” Methos promised, pushing the last remnants of his dream aside. Nothing was inevitable. This wasn’t going to be the last day he had with Richie, he’d make sure of it.
Grabbing Richie and pulling him close once more, Methos repeated his vow. “You won’t lose me, Richie. I love you.” He pressed a gentle kiss on Richie’s lips. “I love you.” Methos kissed Richie’s eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, each contact punctuated by the words, “I love you.”
Richie finally had to stop counting as the kisses began growing longer and the words became little more than murmured vibrations against his skin. His heart beating wildly, he whimpered quietly until Methos came back to stop the sounds with
his mouth. Richie’s hands cupped Methos’ face, drawing his lover into a
deep, thorough joining of breaths and tongues and hearts.
When water began sloshing dangerously over the side once again, Methos tore his mouth free and panted, “We’ve got to...”
“Get out, yeah,” Richie agreed, struggling for air himself. “Good idea.”
After a few precarious slips and skids, they managed to get out of the tub without injury. Standing on one end of the bathroom watching Methos pat himself down with a towel, Richie couldn’t help but say, “I love you Methos.”
Hazel eyes darkened in response, and Methos warned Richie, “If you start that here, you’re going to end up with some serious rug burn.”
“Is that a promise?” Richie teased, skipping just out of reach when Methos made a grab for him.
He raced out of the bathroom doorway and down the hall to their bedroom, knowing Methos was right behind him. He didn’t stop until he reached the bed, spinning around and throwing himself onto his back in the middle of it. When Methos came
down on top of him, he was ready, making room between his legs and burying his hands in Methos’ hair.
The urgency that had been missing from the day was glaringly obvious now. They could not seem to get close enough, fast enough. Their breathing grew labored, and sweat began to mingle with the moisture left over from their bath.
Richie arched his back, moaning, when Methos’ lips closed around a pebbled nipple. “More, Methos. Hurry.”
Eager to oblige, Methos began to lick and nibble his way down Richie’s chest. He had taken Richie’s cock completely into his mouth before the younger man understood his intentions. The suction caught Richie by surprise, the shock sending him hurtling over the first peak.
The tremors of his release had barely subsided when Methos’ mouth captured his once more. Richie reached down to stroke Methos’ weeping shaft where it was trapped between their bodies, but ragged words stopped him.
“No, not like that,” Methos rasped, drawing on every ounce of his will to propel him away from Richie long enough to retrieve the lube from the bedside table. “I want to be inside you,” the older man continued.
“You always are,” Richie replied, sitting up and taking the lube from Methos’ unsteady fingers. “Every minute,” he continued, looking directly into Methos’ eyes. “You always will be,” he finished, spreading lube over Methos’ fingers and erection.
A passionate growl rumbling in his chest, Methos used his weight to push Richie back onto the bed, quickly easing one gel-coated finger inside Richie’s tight passage. Moments later a second digit followed, the sight of Richie writhing against his hand sending Methos right to the edge. “I can’t wait,” he apologized, removing his fingers and replacing them with his aching member.
“Oh, God,” Richie moaned, his body rapidly adjusting to the increased fullness. His own arousal was returning swiftly, despite his recent release.
“Am I hurting you?” Methos asked, concerned.
“No. Hell no,” Richie reassured Methos, lifting his hips eagerly. “Feels good.”
Convinced that Richie was all right, Methos allowed his control to break, giving his body the freedom to thrust and retreat in a steadily quickening rhythm. The motion of his body had little to do with finesse, and everything to do with the
overwhelming need driving him.
Just when he was convinced he couldn’t last one more second, the storm inside him broke. He poured himself into Richie, shudders rocking his entire body. When the first neuron in his brain began firing correctly again, he saw that Richie hadn’t followed him into oblivion. “Allow me,” he requested when he noticed Richie reaching for himself.
Richie set his hand back on the bed and let Methos do the work, strong, sure strokes bringing him to release once again. He sighed a little sadly when Methos pulled carefully out him, taking comfort in the tender kiss his lover offered instead.
Using the last of their energy, the two men dragged the covers on the bed down, then back up over themselves. Warm and comfortable, they spent the last hours of their day spooned together, lost in the peaceful sleep they only found with each
other.
The next night
With the last sparks of the quickening energy still zinging through him, Methos was too keyed up to fall completely asleep. He dozed in and out, waking often as if to reassure himself that everything was as it should
be.
“It’s real,” a quiet voice reassured him.
“You said I’d only have one more day,” Methos accused the brown-robed figure that appeared to be standing at the end of the bed.
“That’s all you would have had,” Darius replied, “but you chose your day wisely.”
“What is this, Indiana Jones?” Methos asked sarcastically.
“Not exactly,” Darius chuckled. “But it’s something like that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You needed a little wake up call,” Darius explained. “Both of you did, but you most of all. You needed to remember what you were living for. In the state you were in a couple of days ago, there’s no way you would have won that fight today.”
Methos wanted to disagree, but he was forced to admit there was some truth to the words. He listened carefully as Darius continued.
“I couldn’t tell you what to do with your day, but you chose the one thing that was going to help you in that alley today. Well done.”
“I didn’t...” Methos started over. “It wasn’t like I put a lot of thought into it, you know. With only one more day, what the hell else was I going to do with it? It had to be Richie’s day, too.”
“I know,” Darius said solemnly. “Thank you for that.”
“I didn’t do it for you. But you’re welcome.”
Darius grinned ruefully. “I can see I’m wearing out my welcome. Just don’t forget the lesson you learned.”
“I won’t,” Methos promised. “I won’t.”
When the ghostly figure had wavered and vanished, Methos buried his nose in the curls that had been teasing his chin. He took a deep breath of Richie’s unique scent, then another. On the third exhale he fell deeply asleep at last, certain
that the morning to come would be the first of many.
The End
Okay, here’s the lyrics —
One More Day — Diamond Rio
Last night I had a crazy dream
A wish was granted just for me, and it could be for anything
I didn’t ask for money, or a mansion in Malibu.
I simply wished for one more day with you.
One more day.
One more time.
One more sunset, maybe I’d be satisfied.
But then again, I know what it would do —
Leave me wishing still for one more day with you.
First thing I’d do is pray for time to crawl.
I’d unplug the telephone and keep the tv off.
I’d hold you every second, say a million “I love you’s”
That’s what I’d do with one more day with you.
One more day.
One more time.
One more sunset, maybe I’d be satisfied.
But then again, I know what it would do —
Leave me wishing still for one more day with you.