HL ficlet: Truth and Dare
Fandom, Pairing: Highlander; Joe/Amanda
Summary: A tag for "The Cross of St. Antoine."
Rating: PG
Length: 425 words
Disclaimers: Joe and Amanda are the property of Davis/Panzer Productions. No harm, no foul, no money changing hands.
Author's Notes: A slightly polished version of comment-fic written in response to amberleewriter's Joe and Amanda Are Love challenge. Thanks to mackiedockie for the encouragement!
Joe had played until his hands ached and his throat was sore. Any more and he wouldn't be able to perform tomorrow. And Joe knew he would need to perform tomorrow. He kept flashing back to Lauren's murder. Durgan was dead now. MacLeod had taken care of it.
Didn't mean he'd be getting much sleep tonight.
Joe heard the floorboards by the register creak. He looked up, ready to kick Mac out.
Amanda slid into the chair across the table from him and nodded at his whiskey bottle. "It's no fun to drink alone," she said.
"Amanda - " Joe was torn between the grip of a pure black funk and his inability to be rude to a lady. "I'm just not in the mood for games."
"Oh, I think you'll like this one," Amanda said, picking up the whiskey and tilting it back for a swallow. When she put the bottle back down in front of him, her tongue nimbly chased an amber drop to the corner of her mouth.
Joe was tired, and he was hurting. But he wasn't dead, so he noticed.
"You get to ask me any question you want, and I'll answer it," she said.
The Watcher in Joe sat up and started paying attention, entirely against his will. He'd gotten to know Mac pretty well over the years, but this was Amanda. How had she survived all this time as a female Immortal? Where was she during those Lost Years in the 16th century? Was Amanda the mysterious woman who planned Jack Murphy's infamous 'Star of India' heist? Joe could even confirm the rumors about her relationship with Rebecca, one way or the other.
Amanda was still talking. "Then I get to ask you a question. We'll take turns. And if you don't answer honestly and completely, you have to pay ..." She licked her right forefinger and then reached down below the level of the table into her lap. Joe found himself leaning forwards to see what she was doing. Amanda languorously traced a line up along the buttons of her blouse until she reached the top one. She flicked it open, pale flesh tantalizing between black silk. "... a forfeit."
Joe felt a warm flush across his face that was matched by one south of the border. He tilted his head, a rueful smile dancing across his lips. "I think I might run out of buttons before you do."
"Well," Amanda said huskily, holding his gaze across the table, "I'm sure we can work something out."
Summary: A tag for "The Cross of St. Antoine."
Rating: PG
Length: 425 words
Disclaimers: Joe and Amanda are the property of Davis/Panzer Productions. No harm, no foul, no money changing hands.
Author's Notes: A slightly polished version of comment-fic written in response to amberleewriter's Joe and Amanda Are Love challenge. Thanks to mackiedockie for the encouragement!
Joe had played until his hands ached and his throat was sore. Any more and he wouldn't be able to perform tomorrow. And Joe knew he would need to perform tomorrow. He kept flashing back to Lauren's murder. Durgan was dead now. MacLeod had taken care of it.
Didn't mean he'd be getting much sleep tonight.
Joe heard the floorboards by the register creak. He looked up, ready to kick Mac out.
Amanda slid into the chair across the table from him and nodded at his whiskey bottle. "It's no fun to drink alone," she said.
"Amanda - " Joe was torn between the grip of a pure black funk and his inability to be rude to a lady. "I'm just not in the mood for games."
"Oh, I think you'll like this one," Amanda said, picking up the whiskey and tilting it back for a swallow. When she put the bottle back down in front of him, her tongue nimbly chased an amber drop to the corner of her mouth.
Joe was tired, and he was hurting. But he wasn't dead, so he noticed.
"You get to ask me any question you want, and I'll answer it," she said.
The Watcher in Joe sat up and started paying attention, entirely against his will. He'd gotten to know Mac pretty well over the years, but this was Amanda. How had she survived all this time as a female Immortal? Where was she during those Lost Years in the 16th century? Was Amanda the mysterious woman who planned Jack Murphy's infamous 'Star of India' heist? Joe could even confirm the rumors about her relationship with Rebecca, one way or the other.
Amanda was still talking. "Then I get to ask you a question. We'll take turns. And if you don't answer honestly and completely, you have to pay ..." She licked her right forefinger and then reached down below the level of the table into her lap. Joe found himself leaning forwards to see what she was doing. Amanda languorously traced a line up along the buttons of her blouse until she reached the top one. She flicked it open, pale flesh tantalizing between black silk. "... a forfeit."
Joe felt a warm flush across his face that was matched by one south of the border. He tilted his head, a rueful smile dancing across his lips. "I think I might run out of buttons before you do."
"Well," Amanda said huskily, holding his gaze across the table, "I'm sure we can work something out."