Fic: Spinning Back Around -- Highlander; Methos & Joe; Teen
Title: Spinning Back Around
Author: Lferion
Challenge answered: Timestamp for And Refuse to Call Love Sin
Characters/Pairings: Methos & Joe (Methos/Joe kind of implied)
Rating: Teen
Summary: This time, Joe is the one teaching the class on how to not get shocked in the field.
Link to fic/art/vid/etc. post on your journal: On AO3, on DW, on LJ
Notes: Many thanks to Rhi for commiseration, Jay for sanity-checking and pointing out the rough spots, and Athena for catching those last typos, and all three of them for encouragement & cheering-on. It's a much better story for your input.
Written for the
hl_chronicles (hl_chronicles) 20 year challenge.
Title is from Runnin' off of the album Trespassing by Adam Lambert.
Spinning Back Around
Watcher Academy, Geneva, 1984, 'Introduction to Immortal Mores, Ethics and Attitudes'
Not for the first time, Joe wondered how it was that he was stuck with teaching this class again. At least it was unlikely that there would be anyone in it who honestly did not know that the range of human sexual expression was wider than a man with a woman. He smiled, gathering his notes and thinking fondly of Farris. They'd only slept together a few times, but had become - and stayed - good friends. They kept in touch. Farris was doing research on the physics of quickenings and similar phenomena in the world, and here Joe was, back in this same room, this same class. Well, if nothing else it gave him a chance to keep an eye on the attitudes, ethics and morals of the current watcher recruits.
Don Salzer's hand-picked protege was on the roster for this section, and Joe was quite looking forward to making his acquaintance. Adam Pierson, graduate student in ancient languages and cultures. Research was already looking forward to having him in their clutches, sight unseen, just on the strength of his Master's thesis.
There was a brief noise at the door, and the recruits clattered in, a mix of men and women, young and old, the range of cultural backgrounds apparent even in this relatively small sample. (Or else the powers that be had given him the 'misfit' class - those recruits who didn't fit neatly into the pigeonholes even a multicultural and multinational enterprise like the Watchers seemed distressingly prone to.) A turban, a kippah and two sets of Michael Jackson jheri-curls (one male, one female) were followed by several 'business-casual' professionals in a striking variety of skin tone & hair color. The jean and sweater clad student types were remarkably unobtrusive, but even so, Joe noticed the angular, dark-haired young man with the prominent nose and intelligent eyes. That he chose to sit near the front in a comfortable slouch didn't hurt.
In short order everyone had settled into a seat, and it was showtime.
"Good afternoon, I'm Joe Dawson, and yes, this is the class that gets called 'Immortals have no morals' when it isn't called 'Perversions 101 or How Not to get Shocked in the Field.' Let's start with introductions. I'd like each of you to give your name, where you are from, how you were recruited and one thing you believe about immortals." Joe paused. They were all looking at him; most of them had expected that he would launch straight into a lecture of some kind and were a little taken aback. Good. He consulted his list and carefully did not choose Adam Pierson to go first. "Kim Tran, how about you start, and we'll go around the room in order."
Joe was somehow not surprised to discover that the student who had already attracted his eye was Don's Adam.
By the time the week of class was nearly up, Joe realized that more than his eye had been attracted. He never failed to notice how nicely Adam's jeans outlined his lean and shapely thighs, molded over a generous package. How - like Farris - Adam used his hands to illustrate his points; how - like Laura - he had both a scholar's perspective and a wry wit. How, like both of them, Adam's presence made heart and head (big and most certainly little) perk right up. But however bright, articulate, attractive and independent he was, Adam was still young enough to be Joe's son. Not to mention Joe was nominally his superior, at least until the academy session was over. Keep it in your pants, Joseph Dawson. Farris may still be a friend, but Laura certainly isn't. He kept his mind focussed on the class, but allowed himself to hope for friendship at least, and the possibility of later. He didn't think he'd been imagining the way Adam seemed to have an awareness of the men - particularly the flamboyant Rhodri Carmichael, provocative earring and all - and a casual comfort with the women of the class.
The way Joe taught, the last class was always a discussion, a mirror of the first session, only with the recruits discussing the ways their perceptions of Immortal ethics, morals and attitudes had changed for them over the course of the week.
The conversation ranged widely, with most of the class having broadened their horizons, coming to an intellectual understanding of the the sorts of changes the scale of Immortal lifetimes gave even if not an emotional or internal one. As usual, there was still one who held firmly - even grimly in this case - to a fixed and restrictive idea of gender and sex roles. Other years Joe had hopes the one or ones with rigid ideas of morality would eventually be persuaded to a wider view, but Joe had already noted that Curt Briggs was going to be a problem. Though it was a positive delight to watch two of the young ladies and one of the older men, all of whom had taken the class to heart, join Adam in gently and inexorably tying Briggs up into knots with his own words and texts. Never get into an argument with people who had access to the original languages of the source material. Briggs fancied himself a scholar, but he really wasn't up to Marie's weight, much less Adam's.
Finally, Briggs retorted "I don't care. I don't believe we have anything in common with Immortals, and as far as I am concerned they are all godless heathens and sinners." Here he threw a half-defiant look at Joe, "And I'll be perfectly happy working regular hours in maintenance, rather than having to deal with them."
Eventually, Joe called a halt and sent the trainees on their way, that much closer to becoming full-fledged Watchers. He was just tidying up his notes when he caught sight of Adam leaning on the doorframe, waiting for him.
Joe smiled and Adam smiled back. With the class done, Joe was free to see if they might be friends, or more. He was looking forward to it.
"So," Joe ventured, "does Briggs have a point? You didn't answer his last sally."
Adam answered the lightness in Joe's voice with a deadpan note of his own, "No point in continuing - academic artillery never yet breached those walls of determined ignorance. But you know that."
Joe snorted in agreement and finished gathering his things. Adam shouldered his book-bag and paused before opening the door.
"Actually, Joe, I do have one thing in common with Immortals; I like both, and I care a lot more about the person than I do the plumbing, or anything else. And it's been a very long time indeed since I considered any kind of love a sin." For a moment Joe could see age in Adam's eyes, imagine what he would look like in ten, twenty, forty years. It truly did not matter to Adam that Joe was older, walked with prostheses, was a man. Then the shadow vanished and Joe saw only Adam, young and vibrant and full of life.
"Come on, let's get something to eat. I want to hear more about that myth you were talking about with Maria."
Seacouver, March 1995
…And all your Chronicles with him….
…'Adam' the first man….
Joe set the phone carefully back in the cradle. It was, strangely not a surprise that Adam was an immortal. It wasn't even a surprise that Adam was Methos.
The door had opened while he was talking, letting in a gust of cold, wet air, and for a moment his bones ached almost as much as his heart. Kalas might not have killed Adam, but it seemed he was 'dead' all the same: Methos was - had to be - far too canny a survivor for it to be otherwise.
"Find a seat," Joe called out to whomever had come in, pulling his thoughts away from Kalas and the fact that he was going to need to fly to Paris tomorrow for Don's funeral, Adam or no. "Be with you in a moment."
A dark figure took a stool at the end of the bar. Joe looked up to a raptor's profile and ageless hazel eyes he had not expected to see again.
"Hullo, Joe."
Joe’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. For a moment he felt the most extraordinary mix of conflicting emotion - joy, anger, confusion, relief, fear-for-his-friend, exasperation, other less nameable things - and driving all of them was love. He was hardly aware he had moved before he was out from behind the bar, cane falling unnoticed to the floor as he reached out to grip Adam - Methos - Adam's upper arms in hands that nearly vibrated with the force of his feelings.
"What are you doing here? Dammit, Adam, it can't be safe," Joe said, punctuating each word with a shake. The cloth of Adam's coat was chill and damp under his fingers. He'd been out in the weather longer than a dash from a taxi to the door. The thought only reinforced the rush of new worry for his friend. Joe pulled Adam abruptly into an embrace, and was stupidly relieved to feel Adam's arms come around him in turn, comforting and comforted.
Adam's voice was muffled a little by Joe's sweater, "I'm sorry Joe. I wanted, needed, to see you, to talk you myself. Even though I figured MacLeod would tell you before I could get here." Adam pulled back after a moment so he could see Joe's face. "It's no less safe than before - you and Mac are the only ones who know at this point."
Try as he might, Joe could still only really see Adam. Even knowing that unfathomable years lay behind those eyes, it didn't matter. Not in the moment. The Now really was all any of them had, after all. Joe nodded slowly, reaching for the nearest chair-back & to steady himself. Adam ducked down and retrieved the cane, handing it to Joe without fuss. "Thank you." Joe took a breath and straightened, feeling lighter than he had in days, even with the still-present grief of Don's death. "So, have you eaten? I've got soup and bread waiting for me at home. I want to hear more about all of this." Joe suddenly recalled another conversation, when he was only just getting to know Adam. "Only one thing in common with Immortals, eh?"
The still-solemn look on Adam's face dissolved into a delighted grin, and Joe could see the last subtle tension leave Adam's shoulders. He had been more worried about Joe's reaction than Joe had thought. "I said one thing, I didn't say it was the only thing, Joe. And I still refuse to call love sin."
This entry was originally posted at http://lferion.dreamwidth.org/235523.html, where there are currently
comments. Please comment there using OpenID.
Author: Lferion
Challenge answered: Timestamp for And Refuse to Call Love Sin
Characters/Pairings: Methos & Joe (Methos/Joe kind of implied)
Rating: Teen
Summary: This time, Joe is the one teaching the class on how to not get shocked in the field.
Link to fic/art/vid/etc. post on your journal: On AO3, on DW, on LJ
Notes: Many thanks to Rhi for commiseration, Jay for sanity-checking and pointing out the rough spots, and Athena for catching those last typos, and all three of them for encouragement & cheering-on. It's a much better story for your input.
Written for the
hl_chronicles (hl_chronicles) 20 year challenge.
Title is from Runnin' off of the album Trespassing by Adam Lambert.
Spinning Back Around
Watcher Academy, Geneva, 1984, 'Introduction to Immortal Mores, Ethics and Attitudes'
Not for the first time, Joe wondered how it was that he was stuck with teaching this class again. At least it was unlikely that there would be anyone in it who honestly did not know that the range of human sexual expression was wider than a man with a woman. He smiled, gathering his notes and thinking fondly of Farris. They'd only slept together a few times, but had become - and stayed - good friends. They kept in touch. Farris was doing research on the physics of quickenings and similar phenomena in the world, and here Joe was, back in this same room, this same class. Well, if nothing else it gave him a chance to keep an eye on the attitudes, ethics and morals of the current watcher recruits.
Don Salzer's hand-picked protege was on the roster for this section, and Joe was quite looking forward to making his acquaintance. Adam Pierson, graduate student in ancient languages and cultures. Research was already looking forward to having him in their clutches, sight unseen, just on the strength of his Master's thesis.
There was a brief noise at the door, and the recruits clattered in, a mix of men and women, young and old, the range of cultural backgrounds apparent even in this relatively small sample. (Or else the powers that be had given him the 'misfit' class - those recruits who didn't fit neatly into the pigeonholes even a multicultural and multinational enterprise like the Watchers seemed distressingly prone to.) A turban, a kippah and two sets of Michael Jackson jheri-curls (one male, one female) were followed by several 'business-casual' professionals in a striking variety of skin tone & hair color. The jean and sweater clad student types were remarkably unobtrusive, but even so, Joe noticed the angular, dark-haired young man with the prominent nose and intelligent eyes. That he chose to sit near the front in a comfortable slouch didn't hurt.
In short order everyone had settled into a seat, and it was showtime.
"Good afternoon, I'm Joe Dawson, and yes, this is the class that gets called 'Immortals have no morals' when it isn't called 'Perversions 101 or How Not to get Shocked in the Field.' Let's start with introductions. I'd like each of you to give your name, where you are from, how you were recruited and one thing you believe about immortals." Joe paused. They were all looking at him; most of them had expected that he would launch straight into a lecture of some kind and were a little taken aback. Good. He consulted his list and carefully did not choose Adam Pierson to go first. "Kim Tran, how about you start, and we'll go around the room in order."
Joe was somehow not surprised to discover that the student who had already attracted his eye was Don's Adam.
By the time the week of class was nearly up, Joe realized that more than his eye had been attracted. He never failed to notice how nicely Adam's jeans outlined his lean and shapely thighs, molded over a generous package. How - like Farris - Adam used his hands to illustrate his points; how - like Laura - he had both a scholar's perspective and a wry wit. How, like both of them, Adam's presence made heart and head (big and most certainly little) perk right up. But however bright, articulate, attractive and independent he was, Adam was still young enough to be Joe's son. Not to mention Joe was nominally his superior, at least until the academy session was over. Keep it in your pants, Joseph Dawson. Farris may still be a friend, but Laura certainly isn't. He kept his mind focussed on the class, but allowed himself to hope for friendship at least, and the possibility of later. He didn't think he'd been imagining the way Adam seemed to have an awareness of the men - particularly the flamboyant Rhodri Carmichael, provocative earring and all - and a casual comfort with the women of the class.
The way Joe taught, the last class was always a discussion, a mirror of the first session, only with the recruits discussing the ways their perceptions of Immortal ethics, morals and attitudes had changed for them over the course of the week.
The conversation ranged widely, with most of the class having broadened their horizons, coming to an intellectual understanding of the the sorts of changes the scale of Immortal lifetimes gave even if not an emotional or internal one. As usual, there was still one who held firmly - even grimly in this case - to a fixed and restrictive idea of gender and sex roles. Other years Joe had hopes the one or ones with rigid ideas of morality would eventually be persuaded to a wider view, but Joe had already noted that Curt Briggs was going to be a problem. Though it was a positive delight to watch two of the young ladies and one of the older men, all of whom had taken the class to heart, join Adam in gently and inexorably tying Briggs up into knots with his own words and texts. Never get into an argument with people who had access to the original languages of the source material. Briggs fancied himself a scholar, but he really wasn't up to Marie's weight, much less Adam's.
Finally, Briggs retorted "I don't care. I don't believe we have anything in common with Immortals, and as far as I am concerned they are all godless heathens and sinners." Here he threw a half-defiant look at Joe, "And I'll be perfectly happy working regular hours in maintenance, rather than having to deal with them."
Eventually, Joe called a halt and sent the trainees on their way, that much closer to becoming full-fledged Watchers. He was just tidying up his notes when he caught sight of Adam leaning on the doorframe, waiting for him.
Joe smiled and Adam smiled back. With the class done, Joe was free to see if they might be friends, or more. He was looking forward to it.
"So," Joe ventured, "does Briggs have a point? You didn't answer his last sally."
Adam answered the lightness in Joe's voice with a deadpan note of his own, "No point in continuing - academic artillery never yet breached those walls of determined ignorance. But you know that."
Joe snorted in agreement and finished gathering his things. Adam shouldered his book-bag and paused before opening the door.
"Actually, Joe, I do have one thing in common with Immortals; I like both, and I care a lot more about the person than I do the plumbing, or anything else. And it's been a very long time indeed since I considered any kind of love a sin." For a moment Joe could see age in Adam's eyes, imagine what he would look like in ten, twenty, forty years. It truly did not matter to Adam that Joe was older, walked with prostheses, was a man. Then the shadow vanished and Joe saw only Adam, young and vibrant and full of life.
"Come on, let's get something to eat. I want to hear more about that myth you were talking about with Maria."
Seacouver, March 1995
…And all your Chronicles with him….
…'Adam' the first man….
Joe set the phone carefully back in the cradle. It was, strangely not a surprise that Adam was an immortal. It wasn't even a surprise that Adam was Methos.
The door had opened while he was talking, letting in a gust of cold, wet air, and for a moment his bones ached almost as much as his heart. Kalas might not have killed Adam, but it seemed he was 'dead' all the same: Methos was - had to be - far too canny a survivor for it to be otherwise.
"Find a seat," Joe called out to whomever had come in, pulling his thoughts away from Kalas and the fact that he was going to need to fly to Paris tomorrow for Don's funeral, Adam or no. "Be with you in a moment."
A dark figure took a stool at the end of the bar. Joe looked up to a raptor's profile and ageless hazel eyes he had not expected to see again.
"Hullo, Joe."
Joe’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. For a moment he felt the most extraordinary mix of conflicting emotion - joy, anger, confusion, relief, fear-for-his-friend, exasperation, other less nameable things - and driving all of them was love. He was hardly aware he had moved before he was out from behind the bar, cane falling unnoticed to the floor as he reached out to grip Adam - Methos - Adam's upper arms in hands that nearly vibrated with the force of his feelings.
"What are you doing here? Dammit, Adam, it can't be safe," Joe said, punctuating each word with a shake. The cloth of Adam's coat was chill and damp under his fingers. He'd been out in the weather longer than a dash from a taxi to the door. The thought only reinforced the rush of new worry for his friend. Joe pulled Adam abruptly into an embrace, and was stupidly relieved to feel Adam's arms come around him in turn, comforting and comforted.
Adam's voice was muffled a little by Joe's sweater, "I'm sorry Joe. I wanted, needed, to see you, to talk you myself. Even though I figured MacLeod would tell you before I could get here." Adam pulled back after a moment so he could see Joe's face. "It's no less safe than before - you and Mac are the only ones who know at this point."
Try as he might, Joe could still only really see Adam. Even knowing that unfathomable years lay behind those eyes, it didn't matter. Not in the moment. The Now really was all any of them had, after all. Joe nodded slowly, reaching for the nearest chair-back & to steady himself. Adam ducked down and retrieved the cane, handing it to Joe without fuss. "Thank you." Joe took a breath and straightened, feeling lighter than he had in days, even with the still-present grief of Don's death. "So, have you eaten? I've got soup and bread waiting for me at home. I want to hear more about all of this." Joe suddenly recalled another conversation, when he was only just getting to know Adam. "Only one thing in common with Immortals, eh?"
The still-solemn look on Adam's face dissolved into a delighted grin, and Joe could see the last subtle tension leave Adam's shoulders. He had been more worried about Joe's reaction than Joe had thought. "I said one thing, I didn't say it was the only thing, Joe. And I still refuse to call love sin."
This entry was originally posted at http://lferion.dreamwidth.org/235523.html, where there are currently
comments. Please comment there using OpenID.