As The World Turns
by Erika

Pairing: Duncan's POV, Methos/Wolverine
Disc: The X-men characters are property of Stan Lee, Marvel and their associated companies. Highlander and its characters belong to TPTB at Panzer/Davis and their associated companies.
Rating: Slash
Summary: Duncan's POV, what he thinks about his new relationship ... yeah, yeah, I know the title is taken from that North American soap that never seems to end, but for some strange reason the title kind of clicked for this particular story.
Okay, right now the stories for this Methos/Wolverine series are as follows:
1. Healing Powers.
2. Remembering Your Touch.
3. As the World Turns.
4. A Watcher's Council
Beta-reader: Mofalle, who has proven herself to be one hell of a marathon runner. And Anika, who made really insightful contributions to the storyline and makes me wished I had more free time to write.
website: http://www.geocities.com/carlajanep/Erika/EEpart00.html
egroup: http://www.egroup.com/EvilChild

He'd been watching them for the past hour, watching the way they both seem to know where the other was, taking note of their constant touching and the shy flirtatious smiles Methos continued to throw at his lover, Logan. He had been away in Paris when he had received an urgent phone call from Joe informing him about Methos's new relationship. He still remembered the conversation they had had.

At three in the morning Paris time, he had woken up to answer the phone. "Mac?" Joe had asked him, and the agitated sound in his friend's voice had quickly alerted MacLeod away from his sleepy state.

"Joe, what is it? Is everything okay?" His heart had raced, remembering that Methos had at the time been in Seacouver. God, he had thought. Please don't let it be anything bad. Please. One thing MacLeod had learned was that news delivered in the middle of the night was never good news.

"Mac, do you know an immortal named Logan?" Joe had asked.

"What?"

"This is important, MacLeod. Have you ever come across an immortal named Logan?" MacLeod had just gripped the phone harder, hearing the concern in Joe's voice. "No. Look, Joe, I have never come across one named Logan. Now, why are you really calling me, Joe? Is Methos all right?"

"Hmpf." MacLeod had waited for Joe to tell him everything had been fine. To reassure him that Methos had been alive and well. Just as he had been about to ask Joe more questions, the Watcher had continued. "There's a guy hanging around Methos, and he doesn't seem Methos's type. I mean there is a rough edge to this guy, and as far as I can tell, he is not carrying a sword, but ... something doesn't seem to click, Mac. I feel it in my bones; something isn't right."

MacLeod had found himself immediately going to Seacouver only to discover that Methos had left for a short road trip. Two weeks later, Methos had returned, carrying a healthy tan and looking quite young. He looked so young that MacLeod almost hadn't recognized him. MacLeod had first assumed it was because Methos was letting his hair grow ... that was until he had noticed the other changes. There had been a lightness to Methos's step. He had smiled more, and he had seemed to fluster easily, something MacLeod had remembered Methos had also done when he'd been with Alexa. He had finally put his finger on it. Methos was in love, and it was a sight to behold.

MacLeod drank his beer, half-listening to Joe's chatter. Sitting at the bar, he found his gaze constantly going back to the couple that was seated at a table at the far corner of the room, away from most of the patrons. Why did it hurt so much, watching Methos like this ... watching him be this vulnerable? MacLeod drank his beer, half-listening to Joe comment about what he was writing in his journal. He sipped his drink, hardly noticing when Joe began to put away his journal, the Watcher's knowing gaze taking in everything.

"MacLeod?" Joe asked him, concern clearly written on his face.

What could he say? How could he explain something he couldn't even explain to himself? "They seem happy," MacLeod found himself finally stating.

"Yeah, who would have thought the old man would get himself involved..."

"...with a man?" MacLeod pointed out.

"No. A mortal," Joe told him, his gaze taking in MacLeod's appearance and his constant fidgeting. "I thought after losing Alexa that Methos would've sought out an immortal lover." Joe pointed out, his gaze never leaving MacLeod.

"You thought wrong, Joe," MacLeod told him. Logan was mortal. MacLeod had not felt any immortal quickening within him.

"I wonder..." Joe murmured, but the meaning was lost on MacLeod who was again scanning the area where Methos and Logan were sitting.

Methos got up and went to the bar. He smiled. "Joe, another round." He patted MacLeod on the back and headed toward the restroom. Soon afterwards, Logan headed in that direction.

MacLeod found himself clutching his fists, watching the clock. Two minutes ... five ... ten ... twenty. If it weren't for the fact he could still sense Methos's immortal quickening, however faint at this distance, MacLeod would have assumed Methos had left. Less than half an hour later, Methos and Logan came back to their table. Methos looked flushed. He seemed to sprawl even more deeply in the chair, something MacLeod had not thought possible.

MacLeod looked at Methos and found himself getting more aroused at the sight his friend presented. The older immortal was licking his lips, smiling mischievously from time to time and drinking the beer from the bottle, exposing his long neck. He presented a tempting sight, but all of Methos's lust was being directed at Logan, not the Highlander.

Logan shifted in his seat, bringing his chair closer to Methos; his hand traveled down Methos's neck. He then stopped and looked at MacLeod. Logan and he had done this before. They had circled around Methos with Logan looking at MacLeod as though the other man knew his deepest thoughts. How many times these past few days had MacLeod found himself becoming aroused when he looked at Methos, only to find Logan's gaze upon him? There had been times when MacLeod had seriously wondered whether or not Logan could read his mind.

He watched Logan's other hand that had been clasping the beer move underneath the table. MacLeod's own beer had been forgotten as he found himself with a front row seat to Methos's seduction. Methos leaned further into the chair, both his hands holding the table with his head slightly thrown back.

Logan's hand traveled up and down Methos's chest, his gaze never leaving MacLeod, daring him to interrupt; but MacLeod did not dare move. He could not move without giving away his own state. His arousal. Logan's hand held onto the back of Methos's neck, held him in place as Methos bucked. Then just as Methos was about to open his mouth to moan, Logan covered it with a kiss.

Methos's hands clutched onto Logan's back, and MacLeod found himself growling at the sight before him. He was not blind. He knew what was going on, and he found himself desperately wishing it was he who was holding onto Methos, dragging forth his orgasm. He could hear Joe start to cough in embarrassment. MacLeod now noticed how the other patrons were looking at the two men and their open display of affection. Nobody should see Methos like this, MacLeod angrily thought. Nobody.

Some of the patrons at the bar watched as Methos's body went lax from the spent energy and then calmed. Logan released Methos's lips. His hands reappeared above the table only to snatch the napkins and to disappear again below the table. Methos leaned forward to nuzzle Logan's neck.

MacLeod was shocked to discover he had left the barstool and had made his way to their table, standing a few feet in front of them.

Methos opened his eyes and blushed. "MacLeod?"

MacLeod was speechless. He wanted to tear the other man away from Methos's side and then throw the older immortal on the table and fuck him. Fuck him hard and hear Methos scream his name.

"MacLeod?" Methos called to him again.

"Adam. We need to talk." He had to get Methos away from Logan and then ... then ... he'd figure it out when that time came.

"Actually, MacLeod..." Logan stated as he got up, his eyes observing everything, his stance showing a defensive posture. "We have to go home, don't we, Adam?"

Methos yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. God, sex always makes me..." He stopped as though he realized what he was about to say. "Um ... yeah," he stammered. "We'll talk tomorrow. Right, Mac?"

MacLeod found that he could do nothing but watch as Methos left with Logan. At the door, just as they were about to leave, MacLeod whispered, "Bastard," only to have Logan turn around and look straight into his eyes. Damn. How does the guy do that?

As the bar door finally shut behind them, MacLeod fought the urge to run after them and issue a challenge. Logan was a mortal, he reminded himself, but he found no comfort in that fact. No comfort at all. MacLeod went back to the bar and drank the whiskey Joe had put in front of him. He did not notice the concern in the Watcher's eyes, his mind instead replaying the sight of Methos in the throes of passion.

The End