Happy Birthday Aeron_lanart!!!
Most excellent birthday wishes to the hoopiest frood I know, aeron_lanart. She mentioned in a recent post she'd like to see more Dresden/Methos, so I wrote some. Rated 15 to be on the safe side, but as usual I can't write sex for toffee so no actual sex occurs during the fic.
Happy Birthday Al xxxx
Nothing you recognise is mine.
Gifts
I have to admit, I could get used to this. Lying on my bed, utterly debauched, and the man who just blew me six ways from Sunday was downstairs fixing me cinnamon toast. I'm not exactly a novice in the bedroom, but Methos knows things I couldn't even dream of. I guess when you're the only person on the planet older than Ancient Mai, you're sure to have picked up a few tricks along the way.
"Harry," Bob said as he appeared suddenly.
I grabbed the covers frantically to cover my modesty.
"Bob!" I ground out.
"Honestly, Harry, it's not like you have anything I haven't seen before," he said, the corner of his mouth quirked into one of his infuriatingly smug half smiles.
"I thought we had pretty firmly established boundaries set in place for when I have visitors, Bob."
"Since said guest is currently in the kitchen, I had wrongly presumed it would be safe to come and speak to you," he replied.
"Are my ears burning?" Methos said as he climbed the last few steps. He was carrying a tray with tea and toast and wearing only an apron and a smile.
"Hardly. I simply wanted to tell Harry that I finished my calculations," Bob replied. I sat up, suddenly interested.
"The alignment? You know when it is?"
"Tonight," he replied.
I grabbed my jeans from the floor and began to put them on.
"Where are you going? I just made toast," Methos said. Pouting would be completely beneath a five thousand year old immortal, so that couldn't possibly be what he was doing.
"I don't want to go, but that flower only blooms on the island once every fifty years. If I don't leave now I'll miss it. At five hundred dollars an ounce I can't afford to buy it," I explained.
"How much do you use?"
"Currently, nothing. I've only got a tiny amount left from Justin's stores. I've been saving it for a rainy day. But in an ideal world I'd like a pound of it," I replied.
"Then I'll buy it for you."
"Seriously?" Bob exclaimed at the same time I said,
"I can't let you do that."
"I'm quite serious. This is delicious toast and the perfect cup of tea and I refuse to let it go to waste for a few dollars," Methos answered and placed the tray on the bedside table.
"A few thousand dollars..." I began to protest. Bob held out his hand to cut me off.
"Let's not be hasty, Harry. If our friend here wants to make such a generous gift, it would be churlish of you to refuse," he said.
"Almost verging on rude," Methos agreed.
I looked at them both for a moment and then smiled.
"Well, Malcolm Dresden did not raise his son to be rude."
"Excellent," Methos said and clambered back into bed.
Bob actually took his cue for once and discreetly left as I leaned over Methos to take a piece of toast.
My hand never did make it as far as the tray.
Happy Birthday Al xxxx
Nothing you recognise is mine.
Gifts
I have to admit, I could get used to this. Lying on my bed, utterly debauched, and the man who just blew me six ways from Sunday was downstairs fixing me cinnamon toast. I'm not exactly a novice in the bedroom, but Methos knows things I couldn't even dream of. I guess when you're the only person on the planet older than Ancient Mai, you're sure to have picked up a few tricks along the way.
"Harry," Bob said as he appeared suddenly.
I grabbed the covers frantically to cover my modesty.
"Bob!" I ground out.
"Honestly, Harry, it's not like you have anything I haven't seen before," he said, the corner of his mouth quirked into one of his infuriatingly smug half smiles.
"I thought we had pretty firmly established boundaries set in place for when I have visitors, Bob."
"Since said guest is currently in the kitchen, I had wrongly presumed it would be safe to come and speak to you," he replied.
"Are my ears burning?" Methos said as he climbed the last few steps. He was carrying a tray with tea and toast and wearing only an apron and a smile.
"Hardly. I simply wanted to tell Harry that I finished my calculations," Bob replied. I sat up, suddenly interested.
"The alignment? You know when it is?"
"Tonight," he replied.
I grabbed my jeans from the floor and began to put them on.
"Where are you going? I just made toast," Methos said. Pouting would be completely beneath a five thousand year old immortal, so that couldn't possibly be what he was doing.
"I don't want to go, but that flower only blooms on the island once every fifty years. If I don't leave now I'll miss it. At five hundred dollars an ounce I can't afford to buy it," I explained.
"How much do you use?"
"Currently, nothing. I've only got a tiny amount left from Justin's stores. I've been saving it for a rainy day. But in an ideal world I'd like a pound of it," I replied.
"Then I'll buy it for you."
"Seriously?" Bob exclaimed at the same time I said,
"I can't let you do that."
"I'm quite serious. This is delicious toast and the perfect cup of tea and I refuse to let it go to waste for a few dollars," Methos answered and placed the tray on the bedside table.
"A few thousand dollars..." I began to protest. Bob held out his hand to cut me off.
"Let's not be hasty, Harry. If our friend here wants to make such a generous gift, it would be churlish of you to refuse," he said.
"Almost verging on rude," Methos agreed.
I looked at them both for a moment and then smiled.
"Well, Malcolm Dresden did not raise his son to be rude."
"Excellent," Methos said and clambered back into bed.
Bob actually took his cue for once and discreetly left as I leaned over Methos to take a piece of toast.
My hand never did make it as far as the tray.