Entry tags:
Highlander - Love Child
Okay, so it's been forever since I wrote anything in the HL fandom. First fic in years and I go with the crack. Go fig.
Title: Love Child
Genre: Highlander, Slash, Duncan/Methos
Words: ~1200
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers:The awful movie The Source
Synopsis: The Source was exactly as advertised, except for the parts where it wasn’t.
Warnings: Crack, MPreg, Mild Language
Author’s Notes: I’m so sorry. Free Square on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cliche_bingo – MPreg. Also, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
threnodyjones might just kill me for this.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, this is for the best. I am just borrowing them to play and making no profit from this.
Edit: Now a pod fic by the lovely![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
meri/meri_sefket!
~~~~~~~~~~
When Duncan found the Source, he was elated to discover that finally, after all these centuries and after all his sacrifices, he would be able to have children. He looked forward to the day in which he would hold his child in his hands, show this tiny new life all that this vast world had to offer.
What he did not expect was swollen feet and stretch marks along the way.
“Get over it, MacLeod,” Methos commented, leaning his lanky frame against the doorway and offering absolutely no sympathy whatsoever.
Duncan frowned and narrowed his eyes in his friend’s direction. “How did you survive an island full of cannibals anyway?” he asked, having yet to get an actual answer out of him.
Methos simply smirked and replied, “I’m just that good.” He pushed himself off the doorjamb and wandered over to where Duncan sat at the kitchen table, arranging and rearranging a delicate tea set to his satisfaction. Methos took it out of his hands and set the pieces in place, pouring the steaming liquid into the waiting cups. “Besides, what would you do without me?”
Duncan gave him another look at that. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Methos sat down, helping himself to one of the cups. “You love me and you know it,” he said, waiving him off. “Besides, in all technicality, I did not get you into this mess.”
“The voice said that I would finally be able to have a child,” Duncan protested. “I didn’t think it meant like this!”
“And we always trust mysterious voices coming from strangely glowing lights,” Methos nodded sagely.
Duncan glared, again. He knew he was pouting, but didn’t really care as he said, “This shouldn’t even be possible!”
“Either should living forever but we seem to have nailed the market on that,” Methos shrugged. He paused as if pondering something. “I wonder if you are still technically Immortal after all of this. I wonder if your bastard child will be...”
“Please don’t call it that,” Duncan protested, rubbing a hand over his face.
“It’s not my fault the mother of your child was eaten by cannibals while you basked in the afterglow,” Methos pointed out. “I was barely able to fight them off to get you out of there.”
Duncan hung his head, wincing as he found it was time to admit something and it was not the pain of losing a lover. Methos was going to have a field day with this, as was Amanda if she ever found out which, knowing her, she would. “She’s not the mother,” he muttered.
That brought the usually unflappable man up short. “What?” he asked, lowering his teacup.
Duncan cleared his throat, wishing for something stronger than tea and knowing it was off limits for several more months at least. “I found some more texts, most of them Joe’s,” he hedged. He was now at the receiving end of a very interesting look. Clearing his throat again, he explained, “It seems that the child can only be borne of two Immortal parents. She was mortal and...”
He wished he had a camera to capture the disbelieving look he was now faced with. “You’re saying...”
“You have to admit that you were very enthusiastic about getting us off that island and back here,” Duncan pointed out. Methos just sat there, blinking for a moment. “Congratulations, you’re a father,” he deadpanned.
His lover leaned back in his chair, looking as though he was fighting the urge to shake his head. “Father...” he repeated in disbelief.
“Yeah, so stop with the bastard jokes, unless you plan on doing something about it,” Duncan tried, unsuccessfully, to get a smile out of him.
“I should kill you for keeping this from me,” Methos said mildly.
Duncan rolled his eyes. “I only just figured it out. You’ve got me locked up in here with nothing but texts and an internet connection to keep me occupied, what did you expect?”
“You to read porn, not for me to become a father!” the other man declared. He stood and wandered over to a cabinet, entering in a combination Duncan had yet to discover before pulling out a half empty bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a fair sized shot. “No, you don’t get any,” he said without turning around.
Duncan crossed his arms in front of himself and sulked. It was not fair. Not to mention, what was the chance that a mystical child borne of two Immortals could get FAS anyway? Not that he’d risk it, not really. You wait for centuries to have a kid and you get a bit overcautious.
Methos replaced the bottle and relocked the door, another shot in his hands. He downed it and set it aside, staring in wonder at the bulge that was currently Duncan’s stomach.
“Not what you were expecting, eh?” Duncan asked. He took the opportunity to prop his feet up on Methos’ recently vacated chair. They were swelling again and starting to ache.
“To have a bastard love child with my male lover after being sterile for over five thousand years? I must say it’s a bit of a surprise,” Methos admitted.
Before Duncan could complain about the b word being used again, he felt a tickling on the edge of his senses. The familiar feel of an approaching Immortal washed over him, a rush of energy pouring through his veins. The gurgle of his stomach at the end was new though.
He reached for a sword that was not there, cursing as he found it in its stand near the door. He tried to get to his feet but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “You are in no condition to fight,” Methos chided. “I’ll go investigate and take care if it if needed.”
Duncan rolled his eyes. It was always needed. “I’m not an invalid,” he complained. “I can still fight and take heads if need be.”
“Because a Quickening has got to be excellent for prenatal growth... If you can manage to tie your own shoes, you can come with,” Methos told him with false sincerity. He had taken his slip ons and left him with lace ups a few weeks ago, around the time Duncan could no longer reach his toes.
“I hate you,” Duncan replied.
He earned a grin for his efforts, and a gentle pat on his over-large stomach. “You stay here with mommy while daddy goes to kill the evil bad guy,” Methos addressed them both.
He had grabbed his own sword and was nearly to the door already when Duncan shouted after him, “I am not a mother!”
“You’re the one knocked up, MacLeod,” Methos shrugged with a smirk. His disappeared out the door, the series of locks sliding into place behind him.
Duncan glared and resolutely did not pout. His hand slowly drifted to his stomach of its own accord and he sighed. “Your father is a real ass, you know that, right?” Another look towards the door and he swore he could hear the ringing of steel on steel echoing from several blocks away. “Let’s hope he lives long enough for you to find that out for yourself.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed (though I kinda fear it for this one).
Title: Love Child
Genre: Highlander, Slash, Duncan/Methos
Words: ~1200
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers:
Synopsis: The Source was exactly as advertised, except for the parts where it wasn’t.
Warnings: Crack, MPreg, Mild Language
Author’s Notes: I’m so sorry. Free Square on
cliche_bingo – MPreg. Also, threnodyjones might just kill me for this. Disclaimer: I don’t own them, this is for the best. I am just borrowing them to play and making no profit from this.
Edit: Now a pod fic by the lovely
meri/meri_sefket!~~~~~~~~~~
When Duncan found the Source, he was elated to discover that finally, after all these centuries and after all his sacrifices, he would be able to have children. He looked forward to the day in which he would hold his child in his hands, show this tiny new life all that this vast world had to offer.
What he did not expect was swollen feet and stretch marks along the way.
“Get over it, MacLeod,” Methos commented, leaning his lanky frame against the doorway and offering absolutely no sympathy whatsoever.
Duncan frowned and narrowed his eyes in his friend’s direction. “How did you survive an island full of cannibals anyway?” he asked, having yet to get an actual answer out of him.
Methos simply smirked and replied, “I’m just that good.” He pushed himself off the doorjamb and wandered over to where Duncan sat at the kitchen table, arranging and rearranging a delicate tea set to his satisfaction. Methos took it out of his hands and set the pieces in place, pouring the steaming liquid into the waiting cups. “Besides, what would you do without me?”
Duncan gave him another look at that. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Methos sat down, helping himself to one of the cups. “You love me and you know it,” he said, waiving him off. “Besides, in all technicality, I did not get you into this mess.”
“The voice said that I would finally be able to have a child,” Duncan protested. “I didn’t think it meant like this!”
“And we always trust mysterious voices coming from strangely glowing lights,” Methos nodded sagely.
Duncan glared, again. He knew he was pouting, but didn’t really care as he said, “This shouldn’t even be possible!”
“Either should living forever but we seem to have nailed the market on that,” Methos shrugged. He paused as if pondering something. “I wonder if you are still technically Immortal after all of this. I wonder if your bastard child will be...”
“Please don’t call it that,” Duncan protested, rubbing a hand over his face.
“It’s not my fault the mother of your child was eaten by cannibals while you basked in the afterglow,” Methos pointed out. “I was barely able to fight them off to get you out of there.”
Duncan hung his head, wincing as he found it was time to admit something and it was not the pain of losing a lover. Methos was going to have a field day with this, as was Amanda if she ever found out which, knowing her, she would. “She’s not the mother,” he muttered.
That brought the usually unflappable man up short. “What?” he asked, lowering his teacup.
Duncan cleared his throat, wishing for something stronger than tea and knowing it was off limits for several more months at least. “I found some more texts, most of them Joe’s,” he hedged. He was now at the receiving end of a very interesting look. Clearing his throat again, he explained, “It seems that the child can only be borne of two Immortal parents. She was mortal and...”
He wished he had a camera to capture the disbelieving look he was now faced with. “You’re saying...”
“You have to admit that you were very enthusiastic about getting us off that island and back here,” Duncan pointed out. Methos just sat there, blinking for a moment. “Congratulations, you’re a father,” he deadpanned.
His lover leaned back in his chair, looking as though he was fighting the urge to shake his head. “Father...” he repeated in disbelief.
“Yeah, so stop with the bastard jokes, unless you plan on doing something about it,” Duncan tried, unsuccessfully, to get a smile out of him.
“I should kill you for keeping this from me,” Methos said mildly.
Duncan rolled his eyes. “I only just figured it out. You’ve got me locked up in here with nothing but texts and an internet connection to keep me occupied, what did you expect?”
“You to read porn, not for me to become a father!” the other man declared. He stood and wandered over to a cabinet, entering in a combination Duncan had yet to discover before pulling out a half empty bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a fair sized shot. “No, you don’t get any,” he said without turning around.
Duncan crossed his arms in front of himself and sulked. It was not fair. Not to mention, what was the chance that a mystical child borne of two Immortals could get FAS anyway? Not that he’d risk it, not really. You wait for centuries to have a kid and you get a bit overcautious.
Methos replaced the bottle and relocked the door, another shot in his hands. He downed it and set it aside, staring in wonder at the bulge that was currently Duncan’s stomach.
“Not what you were expecting, eh?” Duncan asked. He took the opportunity to prop his feet up on Methos’ recently vacated chair. They were swelling again and starting to ache.
“To have a bastard love child with my male lover after being sterile for over five thousand years? I must say it’s a bit of a surprise,” Methos admitted.
Before Duncan could complain about the b word being used again, he felt a tickling on the edge of his senses. The familiar feel of an approaching Immortal washed over him, a rush of energy pouring through his veins. The gurgle of his stomach at the end was new though.
He reached for a sword that was not there, cursing as he found it in its stand near the door. He tried to get to his feet but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “You are in no condition to fight,” Methos chided. “I’ll go investigate and take care if it if needed.”
Duncan rolled his eyes. It was always needed. “I’m not an invalid,” he complained. “I can still fight and take heads if need be.”
“Because a Quickening has got to be excellent for prenatal growth... If you can manage to tie your own shoes, you can come with,” Methos told him with false sincerity. He had taken his slip ons and left him with lace ups a few weeks ago, around the time Duncan could no longer reach his toes.
“I hate you,” Duncan replied.
He earned a grin for his efforts, and a gentle pat on his over-large stomach. “You stay here with mommy while daddy goes to kill the evil bad guy,” Methos addressed them both.
He had grabbed his own sword and was nearly to the door already when Duncan shouted after him, “I am not a mother!”
“You’re the one knocked up, MacLeod,” Methos shrugged with a smirk. His disappeared out the door, the series of locks sliding into place behind him.
Duncan glared and resolutely did not pout. His hand slowly drifted to his stomach of its own accord and he sighed. “Your father is a real ass, you know that, right?” Another look towards the door and he swore he could hear the ringing of steel on steel echoing from several blocks away. “Let’s hope he lives long enough for you to find that out for yourself.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed (though I kinda fear it for this one).
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Renee
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The Source is very easily ignored, I never even think of it when writing, any more than I would think of Zeist (or was it Ziest, whatever) and I simply refuse Joe being gone. But you've done a great job of building a gem from the debris.
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Have you read
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Just found this via a rec on
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Great crack, and makes as much sense as anything does at this point!
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