fic: A Mistletoe Kiss [PG] Dresden Files/Highlander
Title: A Mistletoe Kiss
Author: A Lanart
Fandom: Dresden Files/Highlander
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None. Set Some time After Blood rites in the DF book verse
Characters/pairings: McAnally, Mouse, Methos/Harry
Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns the Dresden Files, Davis/Panzer owns Highlander
Written for Day Twenty One at consci_fan_mo. Happy Solstice!
A/N: A short while after I finished the previous fic, the muses saw fit to present me with this little scene. It doesn't quite fit in with the other one, so think of it as a sideways postscript if there is such a thing, or a deleted scene!
~*~
I was in the process of following Mouse out of McAnally’s when he sat down smack in front of me and I had to stop, or risk falling headlong over him and probably hitting my head on one of the ceiling fans in the process. I stood there glaring at my unhelpful dog who just gazed at me wagging his tail until I felt Adam stop close behind me. Very close behind me. I turned, and found a pair of mischievously sparkling hazel eyes looking straight at me.
“I think your dog has an ulterior motive,” he said conversationally. I followed his gaze as he raised his eyes, but didn’t immediately see what was making him grin like a fool. And then I did. Mistletoe. The only bit of the stuff in the entire bar. I glanced back down at him; he was still smiling, but there was more in that smile than I ever expected to see. My eyes searched wildly around the place for McAnally, but he was nowhere to be seen, and then I was drawn back to the mistletoe and the man in front of me. If any other guy had stopped me under a sprig of mistletoe I would have said thanks for the compliment, but no thanks. Adam Pierson however wasn’t just any other guy and I was receiving some very conflicting signals from my body and brain. It didn’t help that Mouse obviously thought this was a good idea. Damn fool dog thinking he knows what’s best for me. Adam said nothing, and did nothing but stand there, smiling softly, and waiting.
“I’m not gay,” I squeaked. His smile widened.
“Neither am I. But I am... flexible.”
“I’m sure you are.” Unbidden images of him demonstrating moves with his broadsword entered my mind. Flexible would be the least of it, even if that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. He remained motionless, not demanding anything but I could almost feel the anticipation radiating from him. Mouse gave a soft rumble from by my feet, reminding me I needed to make a decision. I closed my eyes, and breathed deeply, not quite panicking but very close to it. Then there was a hand in my hair, rubbing soothing circles into my scalp that even though they were reassuring somehow weren’t relaxing in the slightest. I swallowed, and opened my eyes. The hand in my hair paused in its movement, but remained where it was, our only point of physical contact
“I am Methos, and I’ve been alive for 5000 years.” His voice was pitched low and curiously intimate. It was a simple statement too, but one loaded with so much more meaning than the mere words. He was handing me his life on a platter to do with as I wished; even if it was to kill or curse him. In the face of such trust I could do only one thing; I bent my head, and kissed him.
I’ve never kissed a man before, despite my ever so helpful brother’s insinuations that I was missing out on a great deal of fun, and I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. It was more and less, different and similar but most of all it was easy. There aren’t a lot of women near my height and I’ve yet to meet one who is willing to kiss me, so kissing someone who was only an inch or two smaller than me was a novel experience. There were none of the distracting discomforts caused by height differences, the only discomfort being the one that drove us apart; lack of oxygen. And the fact that I’d been kissing a guy? It no longer seemed relevant; Adam - Methos - was one hell of a kisser, though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything different if he truly was 5000 years old. I smiled at him.
“Thomas was right,” I whispered before our lips met once more. This time, there were hands and teeth and nails and it was so much *more* than a mistletoe kiss. It was power and passion and life, losing yourself and finding more than you’d bargained for, taking a leap of faith knowing someone would catch you and having your senses reel with an orgy of awareness after being starved for much too long.
McAnally’s unsubtle cough was a reminder that we were actually in a public place even if all the other patrons had long gone. What I didn’t expect to see was the grin on his face.
“He wasn’t exactly the person I had in mind for you when I hung the mistletoe, but he’ll do. Now both of you get out and let me lock up.” Mindful that I was reliant on McAnally for an awful lot of things, I nudged Mouse with my foot. He needed no further urging and transformed himself from the immovable object to the unstoppable force. We had to follow, but by then getting out and getting home had become had become my priority; preferably with the man whose fingers were still wrapped around mine. Luckily he appeared to be of the same mind. I don’t think I’ve ever left McAnally’s so quickly in my life, but then I had a very good reason to, and his name was Methos.
Author: A Lanart
Fandom: Dresden Files/Highlander
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None. Set Some time After Blood rites in the DF book verse
Characters/pairings: McAnally, Mouse, Methos/Harry
Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns the Dresden Files, Davis/Panzer owns Highlander
Written for Day Twenty One at consci_fan_mo. Happy Solstice!
A/N: A short while after I finished the previous fic, the muses saw fit to present me with this little scene. It doesn't quite fit in with the other one, so think of it as a sideways postscript if there is such a thing, or a deleted scene!
~*~
I was in the process of following Mouse out of McAnally’s when he sat down smack in front of me and I had to stop, or risk falling headlong over him and probably hitting my head on one of the ceiling fans in the process. I stood there glaring at my unhelpful dog who just gazed at me wagging his tail until I felt Adam stop close behind me. Very close behind me. I turned, and found a pair of mischievously sparkling hazel eyes looking straight at me.
“I think your dog has an ulterior motive,” he said conversationally. I followed his gaze as he raised his eyes, but didn’t immediately see what was making him grin like a fool. And then I did. Mistletoe. The only bit of the stuff in the entire bar. I glanced back down at him; he was still smiling, but there was more in that smile than I ever expected to see. My eyes searched wildly around the place for McAnally, but he was nowhere to be seen, and then I was drawn back to the mistletoe and the man in front of me. If any other guy had stopped me under a sprig of mistletoe I would have said thanks for the compliment, but no thanks. Adam Pierson however wasn’t just any other guy and I was receiving some very conflicting signals from my body and brain. It didn’t help that Mouse obviously thought this was a good idea. Damn fool dog thinking he knows what’s best for me. Adam said nothing, and did nothing but stand there, smiling softly, and waiting.
“I’m not gay,” I squeaked. His smile widened.
“Neither am I. But I am... flexible.”
“I’m sure you are.” Unbidden images of him demonstrating moves with his broadsword entered my mind. Flexible would be the least of it, even if that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. He remained motionless, not demanding anything but I could almost feel the anticipation radiating from him. Mouse gave a soft rumble from by my feet, reminding me I needed to make a decision. I closed my eyes, and breathed deeply, not quite panicking but very close to it. Then there was a hand in my hair, rubbing soothing circles into my scalp that even though they were reassuring somehow weren’t relaxing in the slightest. I swallowed, and opened my eyes. The hand in my hair paused in its movement, but remained where it was, our only point of physical contact
“I am Methos, and I’ve been alive for 5000 years.” His voice was pitched low and curiously intimate. It was a simple statement too, but one loaded with so much more meaning than the mere words. He was handing me his life on a platter to do with as I wished; even if it was to kill or curse him. In the face of such trust I could do only one thing; I bent my head, and kissed him.
I’ve never kissed a man before, despite my ever so helpful brother’s insinuations that I was missing out on a great deal of fun, and I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. It was more and less, different and similar but most of all it was easy. There aren’t a lot of women near my height and I’ve yet to meet one who is willing to kiss me, so kissing someone who was only an inch or two smaller than me was a novel experience. There were none of the distracting discomforts caused by height differences, the only discomfort being the one that drove us apart; lack of oxygen. And the fact that I’d been kissing a guy? It no longer seemed relevant; Adam - Methos - was one hell of a kisser, though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything different if he truly was 5000 years old. I smiled at him.
“Thomas was right,” I whispered before our lips met once more. This time, there were hands and teeth and nails and it was so much *more* than a mistletoe kiss. It was power and passion and life, losing yourself and finding more than you’d bargained for, taking a leap of faith knowing someone would catch you and having your senses reel with an orgy of awareness after being starved for much too long.
McAnally’s unsubtle cough was a reminder that we were actually in a public place even if all the other patrons had long gone. What I didn’t expect to see was the grin on his face.
“He wasn’t exactly the person I had in mind for you when I hung the mistletoe, but he’ll do. Now both of you get out and let me lock up.” Mindful that I was reliant on McAnally for an awful lot of things, I nudged Mouse with my foot. He needed no further urging and transformed himself from the immovable object to the unstoppable force. We had to follow, but by then getting out and getting home had become had become my priority; preferably with the man whose fingers were still wrapped around mine. Luckily he appeared to be of the same mind. I don’t think I’ve ever left McAnally’s so quickly in my life, but then I had a very good reason to, and his name was Methos.