Title: WinterStorm

Author: Angelee

Fandom: Highlander

Pairing: McLeod/Methos

Rating: R (preslash)

Summary: burrr.

Disclaimer: Not mine

Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2003 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2003

Beta: By my sister Anna. With much thanks. All final mistakes are mine.

WinterStorm

"Are we there yet?"

"Methos." McLeod said with infinite patience.

"Duncan." The ancient immortal answered in the exact same way. Grating on McLeod's already thinly shredded nerves.

"I hate you."

"Yes, Duncan."

"No. No. I really, really hate you."

"Well, that's alright 'cause your not exactly the icing on my cupcake either, luv."

"I really hate you, truly I do and don't call me luv."

"Alright... Duncan, dear."

"Tell me again why we're out here?"

"You tell me. It wasn't my idea to come out here. I told you I don't celebrate Christmas. When you've been around as much as I have one Christmas pretty much looks like thousands of others."

Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod stopped walking to look over at Methos. "How many Christmases exactly is that, Methos?"

Methos furrowed his brow. "Hmm, two thousand. No, no. That can't be right. Three? Four?" He smiled at McLeod allowing him to see his cute little dimples. "Hmm, lots?" He questioned with a mischievous smile.

Duncan rolled his eyes shaking his head. "If you don't know-why don't you just say so?"

The smile turned impish. "I just did."

"Oh, brother. Let's go."

They continued to trudging thru the snow in companionable silence. Until McLeod broke it. "Why are we out here?"

"How the hell would I know? You dragged me out here on the pretense of finding the perfect Christmas tree."

"Do you think I have other motives?" McLeod asked as he turned his head to once again look over at his prickly friend. Methos considerable nose was bright red from the cold and he had snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes. McLeod warning bells went off as he watched those expressive hazel eyes begin twinkling merrily.

"Well personally I'd like to think it's 'cause you have designs on my person and you just want to get me alone."

"Yeah, right." McLeod snorted.

"And what pray tell is wrong with me?" Methos asked. More than a little offended.

"Well, for one thing you’re the wrong gender. I like them softer."

"Hey, I can do soft."

"Yeah. Like a rock."

"Well, that just mean." Methos told him moving ahead of the Scot in a huff.

"Methos?"

"Shut up?"

McLeod laid a hand on his friend's jacket covered arm. "Methos?"

He was stunned when Methos jerk free. "Don't touch me." He was told angrily.

"Methos, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Well, you did. So fuck off."

"Come on, Methos. Don't be mad. 'Tis after all Christmas."

"So?"

"You know 'tis the time of good cheer, happiness and presents."

"You ruined my good cheer. And as for your presents any you were getting are going back to the store."

McLeod sighed ever so softly. "Come on, Methos-why are you so mad?" He took several steps back when the ancient one turned violently toward him.

"Because asshole-You don't hate me as much as I hate you right now. Fuck Christmas. Fuck Christmas trees and fuck YOU." Methos words were punctuated with three vicious shoves onto McLeod's person sending him sprawling into the snow.

McLeod looked up at his angry friend brown eyes filled with hurt. "But Methos-why?"

Methos looked out into the vast white covered landscape. Not really seeing its beauty as he tried to regain control of his emotions. Miserably failing that, he straddled McLeod's body sitting rather heavily on the Scot's tummy. Very much on purpose. He crossed his arms as he glared down at the stunned man.

"Sometimes you act like I'm the vilest creature on the planet. I've been around along time and I don't even come close to being the vilest. Pretty close, but still aways away from the vilest." Hazel eyes continued to glare down at the Scot. "I can to do soft. I'm no rock."

"O…okay, Methos."

"Shut up. Who said you could talk? Do you know what bother's me the most about you, McLeod? Your double standard. Why is it that everyone is on one side and I on the other?"

"Methos, what are you talking about?"

"Shut up. I still didn't say you could talk." Methos told him, readjusting himself still rather heavily on the Scot.

McLeod winced. "But you asked me a question."

"I didn't say answer it-now did I?"

"Methos, please. Your not making any sense. Why are you so mad?'

It'd started snowing again. Big, fat, fluffy snowflakes swirling around coating Methos in a layer of white. Methos didn't care about that. He didn't even really care that he was really, really cold. Except where his body touched McLeod's.

"I really hate you sometimes. You know that, McLeod?" Methos said conversationally.

"Yes. You've made that quite clear, Methos."

"Well, good. Do you want to know why?"

"Yes, Methos. I've only been asking you for the last ten minutes."

"Well, then-I'll tell you. I'm your friend aren't I, McLeod?"

"Yes, Methos."

"Why then do you treat me different from your other friends."

McLeod was shocked to see the hazel eyes fill with tears. "Then why do you treat me different from your other friends?" Methos repeated sadly.

"M…Methos, I don't treat you different."

"Yes, you do. For example-when Amanda or Ritchie or Joe gets in trouble you offer help and or comfort. Even a quick hug. What do I get? Tell me, McLeod? What do I a supposed friend get?"

"M…Methos?"

"I get diddle-squat. That's what I get. Your free with your affections with your other friends. Why am I different, McLeod? Please tell me that."

McLeod raised his legs as a sort of a backrest for his very angry friend. "I didn't realize you were feeling left out, Methos. If you wanted a hug all you had to do was ask."

"Do your other friends have to ask"

"Huh, no."

Methos raised an eyebrow. "Well, then?"

McLeod gave the ancient one a small apologetic smile. "I...I'm sorry, Methos. I hadn't realized I was doing that. Do you want a hug, now?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because right now I hate you."

"Ah."

Yeah, AH."

"Methos, I never know how to treat you. If to shake the life out of you or to love you into the next century and beyond." McLeod told him. Taking off his glove to cup the handsome face of his friend. "Your life experience does not compare with anyone else's on the planet. Do I treat you as if you were made out of spun glass or toss you into the nearest river? So what do you want?"

"Do you remember Alexa? Kronos? Silas?"

"Yes, Methos."

"Would it have killed you to hold me when you found out Alexa died? To offer some words of comfort? Maybe a drink even?"

"No, Methos."

"Or when my stomach was turning inside out on the base floor after the double quickening. What did you do McLeod? Hmm, tell me what did you do?"

"I sat on the steps and watched you?" McLeod whispered his voice filled with regret.

"Yes. You sat there and watched me. What did you do after I could finally stand?"

"Took you home."

"Yes. You took me home. Did you offer a touch or a word of comfort or understanding?"

McLeod closed his eyes fighting back his own tears at how much he's hurt his friend. "No."

"And you call yourself my friend? You call ME friend?"

"Methos, I'm sorry."

Methos looked at him curiously. "And that's suppose to make it alright?"

McLeod's hand which had never left Methos face went down to caress his neck settling where the pulse was beating the strongest. "I do love you."

"Do you? Well you have a funny way of showing it?"

"I'm sorry, Methos. I have no excuse. But I do love you. I just thought you always knew."

"I need to be shown."

"Do you want to be shown now?"

"Yes. please."

McLeod wrapped his arms around Methos pulling him down to him. Giving him a tender, kiss. "I do love you."

"More than, Ritchie?"

"Yes. More than Ritchie."

"More than Joe?"

"Yes. More than Joe."

Methos opened his mouth slightly sending a warm puff of air over McLeod's face. "More than Amanda?"

"Well, I don't know about more than Amanda." Duncan told him suddenly shoving a handful of snow inside Methos jacket. Who yelped in outrage. Quickly recovering he smushed snow into the Scot's face. They rolled around for awhile like two happy, playful puppies.

"Look, an ancient snowman." McLeod laughed gleefully. Every inch of Methos was covered in fine white powder. "Where or were is my Methos? Were could he have gone? Oh, wait-here he is." He said carefully wiped the snow from the face smiling at him. "There's my beloved ancient one."

"Am I?"

"Yes, Methos. You are my beloved one. I will do better showing you."

"Damn straight, you will. Come let's go find this perfect Christmas tree of yours. I want to sit in front of a roaring fire with my feet up and a nice warming drink in my hand."

McLeod smiled at him. "Yes, Methos." He told him obligingly. He pulled the unresisting man into a tight bear hug. "I do love you. Methos." He felt his hug returned wholeheartedly by Methos. Hands running up and down his back warmly.

"You better. Lets go find this damn tree of your." Methos offered his hand to the Scot. Who took it willingly. "Oh and McLeod of the Clan McLeod?"

"Yes, Methos?"

"You'd better love me more than Amanda."