The Gift of Christmas HIghlander FRAO Duncan/Methos
The Gift of Christmas
Fandom: Highlander
By: Linda Atkinson
Rating: FRAO
Warnings: None a little Christmas story.
Duncan MacLeod hummed tunelessly to himself as he closed the trunk of his car. He had spent the last two hours going through boxes of Christmas ornaments and other decorations from past years. He usually purchased new ornaments each year, but some of the things he had collected in the past held special memories for him, and he carefully stored them away to be used each Christmas. Tied to the top of the tree was a seven foot blue spruce tree. He had driven out to the tree farm early that morning to cut this particular tree himself. It was beautifully symmetrical and smelled wonderful, the deep rich scent of evergreen that was to MacLeod one of the enduring scents of Christmases past.
It was a short drive from the warehouse in the lower east side of Seacouver to the dojo and loft that MacLeod and Methos currently called home. Methos had been deeply asleep and not even the scent of fresh brewed coffee had managed to awaken him when Mac ventured out this morning.
Of course the Highlander wasn’t sure he wanted to waken the ancient pain in the ass. Methos had spent a better part of the last three weeks grousing over the fact that his employment with the Seacouver Natural History Museum had been rudely terminated by a new director who had not taken to his young assistant director, and replaced “Adam” summarily without notice.
The Highlander had been planning the decorations and menu for Christmas dinner since Thanksgiving. With a grimace he pulled his car into the spot reserved for him, noting that Methos’ jeep was still in its customary place.
Quickly MacLeod untied the tree and lifted it down from the roof of his car. Carrying it inside he pressed the button for the loft elevator and hoisted the fir inside. The elevator ground to a halt and he pushed up the gate, “Adam,” he called grumbling under his breath. When the other man failed to appear he shoved the tree aside and struggled out of the elevator car.
A warm scent of fresh baked cookies hit him immediately, followed by the sounds of laughter, both Methos’ and the tinkle of female giggles. As he turned into the kitchen MacLeod could just make out the tousled head of Mary Lindsey standing beside the kitchen counter, while Methos balanced a pan of something on oven mitts above her head.
Both the ancient immortal and the little girl had yet to notice the Highlander and he stepped back, just out of their line of sight although Methos surely must be aware that his lover had returned. Neither figure in the kitchen turned toward him, and a slow smile crept across MacLeod’s face as he could hear Methos sternly admonish the tot that no cookies would be forth coming until lunch was eaten. Mary’s silky reply that one wouldn’t hurt was brushed aside, and he could imagine the pout on her small face.
“Oh I’m sure that just one wouldn’t hurt anything,” MacLeod said, capturing Methos’ wrist in his hand and liberating a gingerbread man which he promptly handed to the little girl.
“Uncle Duncan!” Mary giggled, accepting her treat then throwing her arms around his neck. MacLeod studiously ignored the snide smirk on his lover’s face. Mary piped up brightly, “Where have you been Uncle Duncan? Adam and me was making cookies, and you wasn’t anywhere here.”
“I was out getting the Christmas tree. What have you two been up to?”
Methos snorted. “Anne had an emergency and no babysitter so she dropped Mary by, hoping you would be here. So we just improvised…”
“No, we didn’t Adam,” Mary said seriously. “We was making cookies, except that Adam also made some of his super special chili and cornbread for lunch. It smells really good.”
MacLeod inhaled the rich aroma of the food and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Mary laughed again as he tossed her over his shoulder and carried the squealing and giggling toddle to the table. Methos busied himself loading the bread into a basket and carrying the chili pot to the table. By the time that Marry was settled, atop two phone books in her chair, he had the bowls ladled and sliver set beside each plate.
“While we eat, the gingerbread men and ladies can cool so we can decorate them,” Methos said to the little girl, smiling. “And then you and Uncle Duncan can decorate the Christmas tree.”
After lunch MacLeod and Mary decorated the tree as Methos finished cleaning up the kitchen and storing the gingerbread people in plastic bags for Mary to take home. Anne Lindsey arrived at six o’clock to collect her daughter and noted the bags of cookies with a sly grin, “So did you and Uncle Duncan make cookies?” she asked smiling at the bubbling toddler.
Mary shook her head, “Nope me and Adam made them.”
“Oh.” Anne’s voice lost some of its vibrancy and Methos frowned slightly. He knew that Anne did not approve of the Highlander’s relationship with him, but she tried hard not to let Mary see that.
MacLeod leaned over brushing a kiss over Anne’s cheek, and she flushed, “Goodbye, Duncan…Adam.”
MacLeod touched her arm and Anne turned to him as he said, “I wanted to pick Mary up after work tomorrow, if it’s okay. The mall has the most wonderful Santa’s Village, and I wanted to get her picture made.”
“Sure that will be great.” Waving briefly Anne and Mary disappeared into the elevator. As quiet descended on the loft Methos threw the kitchen towel he was holding over the sink, then crossed to the fridge to pull out a bottle of beer. Taking a long swallow he glanced at the tree now propped in the corner of the room beside the elevator door.
With a sigh Methos ambled into the living room, sprawling over the sofa with the bottle balanced precariously on his abdomen. MacLeod settled on the end of the sofa, lifting his lover’s sock-clad feet and placing them in his lap. “Thanks for watching Mary. I know Anne hasn’t made it easy on you sometimes.”
“It’s okay,’ Methos shrugged. “She’s still the one that leaves and I’m the one that stays. She’ll get used to that eventually.”
“We’ll have so much fun with Mary at the mall tomorrow,” MacLeod said with a smile, but Methos held up a hand.
“You’ll have fun at the mall. I hate them, and besides I have some things to do.”
Frowning Macleod pushed Methos’ feet to the floor then stood up, “Why can’t you just get into the Christmas spirit a little? Would it kill you to do some celebrating?”
Rising to his feet Methos stalked over to the bed and jerked the duvet down, “I haven’t celebrated Christmas for a long time now, Mac. I just need to get used to being with someone who sees it as a special time of the year.”
“Don’t you find anything magical about the season?” MacLeod sat on the edge of the bed pulling off his socks as Methos undressed.
“Not for awhile I guess. I’m trying Mac, really. I understand that you love Christmas, still have warm feelings about it. You know Peace on Earth and Good Will to Men. I really do have some things that I need to do, please don’t be angry.”
“I’m not,” the Highlander said as he settled down pulling the blanket up to his chest. Methos slid between the sheets snuggling close. MacLeod stroked the silky soft skin of his lover’s neck, caressing the curve of his jaw just behind the ear. A place guaranteed to get Methos’ motor running. True to form Methos arched his back upwards letting the other man’s fingers glide down his neck to his chest, MacLeod tweaked a tiny nipple drawing it between his fingers, until it was a hard nub. Leaning over he brushed his lips over the other man’s mouth, tongue tracing the fully lover lip, then slipping inside as Methos’ lips parted eagerly.
“Ahhh,” Methos hissed as MacLeod mapped the long, lean body with both his hands and mouth, finally reaching his prize, the marble shaft laying flushed and leaking against Methos’ hard belly. “Oh yes, Duncan, gods yes.”
MacLeod’s lips closed around the heated flesh, tongue teasing the tiny slit until it gushed warm fluid in his mouth. With a satisfied smile MacLeod stretched languidly, pulling a tube of lube from the bedside table, Methos rolled onto his belly spreading his legs invitingly as MacLeod squeezed the silky fluid onto his fingers, slipping them between the rounded globes of Methos ass. His fingers sank inside easily, and in only a few moments Methos was stretched and ready, achingly hard again. He groaned as the other man mounted him and slide inside.
Grunting, MacLeod thrust slowly, easily teasing Methos with shallow thrust and twists of his hips.
“Duncan,” Methos growled, “get on with it.” Then he grunted as the heavier man slammed into Methos sending him sprawling face first into the bed sheets. Laughing MacLeod pulled Methos up, reaching around to stroke his hard cock in time with his thrusts. Methos gasped and warm fluid poured over MacLeod’s fist. The clenching of the other man’s muscles wrung MacLeod own orgasm from him, and he groaned slumping to the bed.
They lay tangled together for a few minutes until their breathing returned to normal. Finally Methos rose, returning to the bed with a warm cloth and wiped them both down before turning off the lamp.
“So you won’t change your mind about the mall tomorrow?”
With a sigh Methos rolled onto his back, draping an arm loosely over his lover’s chest, “I’m sorry, but I can’t. The warehouse where I store some of my old stuff is being sold, and I have to clear it out. There’s not a lot left, but tomorrow’s the last day I have before the new owners change the locks. I tried to get it done but between work and the holidays it’s taken longer than I thought. I’m really sorry I can’t go. Some of the things there are still really important to me or I’d just chuck it all.”
“No don’t do that. I understand.”
Methos settled his coffee mug on the table as he picked through the remnants of his breakfast. MacLeod had left about half an hour ago to pick up Mary for their day at the mall. The moving company scheduled to pick up the last few crates form the warehouse had called; they were running late and wanted him to meet them at the warehouse. He sighed and pulled on his jacket picking up his keys.
Pacing around the small confines of the storage unit Methos pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number for the moving company yet again. It was almost noon and they still hadn’t arrived. He was seriously pissed off, but it did no good to yell at the driver. He might not show up at all. For the tenth time Methos considered how much of the stuff in the crates he could pack into the Jimmy if he had to.
The first crate was not nailed shut yet and he pawed through the contents, finally pulling out a white leather bound steamer trunk. His breath hitched din his chest and mouth dry he opened the chest.
Inside were porcelain dolls, all dressed in Victorian clothes, satin and lace dresses, fur coats and hats, even a pearl adorned lace and velvet wedding gown. Methos closed his eyes remembering the original gown the dress was fashioned after. His breath caught again, and a tear leaked from the corner of his eye.
The sound of a large truck pulling up behind him caused Methos to hastily drag his sleeve across his eyes and close the lid on the white steamer trunk. When two men jumped down from the truck’s cab he rose smiling, “Everything but this goes to the new storage shed. I’m taking this in the car with me.”
Methos sat on the sofa in the living room of the house he had helped MacLeod paint almost six years ago. Anne had been pregnant with Mary then, and he and the Highlander just working their way through a tentative physical attraction and quickly blossoming friendship. Now he sat back watching as MacLeod pulled brightly wrapped packages from beneath the tree, packages that Santa had left for Mary late in the night.
Rising from his place on the couch Methos slipped on his jacket. MacLeod glanced up at him, but he waved briefly then slipped out to the garage, returning in a few moments with a large red brocade wrapped package in his arms.
“Here’s one that Santa left in my car by mistake…” he said as Mary sprang up from the floor and scurried to his side. Eyes wide the little girl looked at the huge box smiling.
“Is it for me, Adam?”
“Yes, it is.” With a squeal of delight she hurried over when he deposited the box on the floor. Anne smiled at both men before pouring herself a cup of coffee and settling on the chair beside Mary.
“Oh Mommy look at how big it is. Can I open it now please, Adam?”
“Of course.” He said sitting down in the floor beside her as she struggled with the heavy brocade paper and velvet ribbons. Methos helped her unwrap the gift and sat back she opened the white steamer trunk clapping her hands as she pulled out the first doll. One by one the porcelain dolls were lifted gently out of the box and examined until all ten of them stood in a row, beautiful in a parade of satin and lace.
Anne stared down at the dolls then glanced at the man sitting beside her daughter, “Oh Adam, they’re beautiful but I don’t think that…well…it’s obvious that these are antiques, beautiful antiques, not a child’s playthings.”
“They should belong to someone who treasures them. Not packed away in a crate in a warehouse. I only hope she’ll love them as much as their original owner did.”
“Did they belong to a lady you knew, Adam?” Mary asked, settling in his lap. Methos brushed her hair away from her face and smiled gently down at her.
“Sort of. They belonged to a lady named Katherine Adams. She was the wife of my relative Benjamin Adams. He was a doctor in London in 1895. Katherine was a teacher when he met her and they were married for ten years. She was so beautiful with blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. Hair that hung all the way down to her hips when she took it down.
“They had a house in London, not too far from Benjamin’s office and every evening he would come home, and Katie would meet him at the door with a glass of something to drink before dinner. He loved coming home because the house would be warm from her cooking their dinner and usually the front rooms smelled of fresh baked bread.” Methos paused smiling, “He used to hand his hat and coat on the rack beside the door, and he would take her by the hand then waltz her around the room toward the door to the dining room, singing to her.”
Mary leaned back captivated by his soft warm voice, “What did he sing, Adam?”
“Oh an old song,” Methos whispered, “He would swing her around in his arms and sing, ‘Casey would waltz with the strawberry blond and the band played on. He’d glide cross the floor with the girl he adored and the band played on. His brain was so loaded it nearly exploded; the poor girl would shake with alarm. But he ne’re leave the girl with the strawberry curls and the band played on.’” His voice trembled slightly and MacLeod eased into the floor laying his arm across the other man’s shoulders. Methos glanced at him smiling, and continued. “Katie had seven brothers and sisters and loved children. That’s why she became a teacher. And she and Benjamin would visit with her family every year at Christmas time. Katie loved to be with her brothers’ and sisters’ children at Christmas, loved making cookies and popping corn and decorating the Christmas tree, but she was sort of sad too, because she and Benjamin didn’t have any children of their own. So Benjamin bought her a doll for Christmas. In fact he bought her one for every Christmas for the ten years they were married.”
Why did they stop being married?” the little girl asked laying her head against his chest.
Methos closed his eyes. “Benjamin thought that the dolls would make up for not having any children of their own, but they couldn’t. He didn’t see how sad Katie was until that last Christmas she decided that she wanted to… well…she left him a note that she wanted to go home to be with Jesus. And she did. So he packed up her things and put all the dolls in that trunk and put them in a warehouse until last week when I had to move them. And when I found them I thought that they should belong to someone, not be packed away. I want you to have them Mary. Will you take care of them?”
“I will Adam. I promise.”
“Good,” Methos said, smiling at her. “I knew you would be the perfect person for them.”
MacLeod touched him on the arm as Mary settled back yawning. “I think it’s bedtime for a special little girl.”
Anne lifted Mary from Methos’ lap. “Thank you so much, Duncan, Adam. You really are spoiling her you know.”
They sat on the couch side by side drinking mulled cider and listen to Anne’s voice as she tucked Mary in. They could just barely hear the tiny, sleepy voice asking mommy to make sure that her special shelf was cleared off in the morning for the dolls. MacLeod
leaned down kissing Methos on the corner of his mouth feeling the smile that tugged his lips. “Thank you for the gift, Methos.”
“I haven’t even given you your present yet…”
“Yes you have,” the other man sighed, “you have given me something far more precious than anything bought or sold. You’ve given me the gift of Christmas, your Christmas past. A little part of your heart and soul.”
“I hadn’t thought of Katie in a very long time. I just remembered how much she loved Christmas. I guess that was when I stopped celebrating, after she was gone. I haven’t had someone who made me want to celebrate, before… She was the last person I really made a life with, a home with. I’d forgotten how much I missed having that. You know the smell of baking bread still means home to me.”
The door slammed as Methos trudged into the loft. He could see that Mac had been busy, the tree was gone and all the decorations were neatly boxed and ready to move downstairs to the storage are in the basement. “Hey Mac, do you want help putting these away?”
He stepped back stumbling over the hat rack standing beside the door. “What the hell?” he hissed to himself. “MacLeod?”
The door opened and Methos whirled as MacLeod came into the room. The Highlander carefully stripped off his leather overcoat and hung it on the coat tree. Taking two steps forward he grasped Methos’ wrist, drawing him close then spun them both around, pressing the other man close to his body with a hand to the small of Methos’ back.
Leaning forward MacLeod nuzzled the slightly smaller man’s neck then began singing tentatively at first, but gaining strength as they waltzed around the room. “Casey would waltz with the strawberry blonde and the band played on…”
His breath catching in his chest, Methos laid his head on the Highlander’s shoulder closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he was almost certain he could smell the scent of bread baking.
The End