teachwriteslash: (iantomethos)
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Epilogue


Methos and MacLeod were napping in a post-coital haze on the deck of Methos’ villa off Crete. After the debacle in Cardiff, they decided they had earned a holiday. Sun, wine, food, and sex were on the menu. The Immortals were completely naked and intertwined together, with Methos’ head resting on Mac’s broad chest. It was his favourite pillow, he told the Highlander.


Methos groaned quietly when he heard his mobile buzzing incessantly, indicating a text message. Moving gracefully so that he wouldn’t wake Mac, he found the phone and read the text.


A – Why were you bagging items in my Hub and what happened the past two days? Did you give us Retcon? – CJH


Frowning and wondering if Jack had been drinking, Methos sent a reply.


J – Wasn’t bagging anything – in the Hub at least. No idea @ 2 days. No Retcon. In Crete. Eating well, drinking better, and having great sex. Glad you’re not here. Turning off the phone now. Call when we get back. Leave us alone – A


Smiling a bit evilly, he pressed send, turned off the mobile, and returned to napping on his favourite pillow – even if it was snoring loudly at the moment.


~


“Cheeky bastard,” Jack growled, barely restraining himself from throwing his mobile across the room. If Ianto had to replace it again, he was going to kill Jack – twice – or so he had said.


“I take it he’s not admitting to having been here or Retconning us?” Ianto asked from his position next to Jack’s desk.


“He denies all of it. Says he’s in Crete with MacLeod – at least I hope it’s with MacLeod since he mentioned great sex,” Jack observed, annoyance clear in his voice.


“Do you trust him?” Ianto asked, looking contemplative.


“After a fashion,” Jack admitted, and then looked up. “I know he’d protect you with his life – his Immortal life – so whatever he did here, if anything, he did for you.” He sounded almost sad about it.


Ianto stared at his lover. “I don’t want Methos, Jack,” the Welshman stated firmly.


“I never said ...” Jack began, sounding uncertain. “You’re free to ... ah hell.”


“I’m not free to do anything,” Ianto continued, fixing Jack with a glare. “I haven’t been since you got back. I know you saw Methos kiss me on the Plass. Don’t deny it. You watch all of us. Gwen thinks it’s because you can’t take your eyes off her. Tosh knows you want us safe. Owen thinks you’re a voyeur.”


“And what do you think, Jones, Ianto Jones?” Jack prompted, sounding serious.


“That it’s a combination,” Ianto concluded. “You want us all in some way. That’s who you are, but you’ve chosen who you come home to at night and that’s enough. You are a voyeur, but only because we have at least shadows of that normal life you crave, and you do above all want us safe.”


“I don’t know how to do jealous,” Jack whispered. “I feel it, but I don’t know how to act it. I should want to scratch Methos’ eyes out for even looking at you, but all I feel is sad because he ... because if you want him, then I want you happy.”


“I don’t,” Ianto stated again, even more firmly. “I have what I want.”


“So what do we do?” Jack wondered, sounding a little tenuous.


“Maybe we should leave it,” Ianto suggested, extending a hand to pull Jack to his feet. “Gwen’s got Rift Duty after her weekend in Paris, and we have a couple of days of relative calm according to Tosh. I’m pretty sure you owe me another date.”


“That I do,” Jack purred enticingly, pulling Ianto into an embrace and kissing him deeply.


~


“Figures,” Methos grumbled as they grabbed their bags from the boot of the taxi. “A whole holiday of sun in Crete, and it’s pissing down when we get back to London.”


“Which you’ve complained about all the way from ...” Duncan began, and then stopped as an Immortal presence washed over him. He saw Methos go for his gun and knew he had felt it as well. As they entered the gate in front of their home, they both stopped and gaped at the familiar figure.


“Never did have enough sense to come in out of the rain,” the man said as he quirked a half-smile. “Put the gun away, Old Man,” he mumbled to Methos. “I’m not here for ye head, or to call ye out to defend Duncan’s honour. He’s a big boy.” He turned to the other Immortal. "Hello, Duncan. What have ye gotten yerself into this time? Torchwood? Really, kinsman. I can’t leave ye alone for a minute."


Duncan stared wide-eyed at the man he had never really expected to see again. “Connor?”


Fin


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