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Entry tags:
Miracles, Cheap, by Sleeps With Coyotes (G)
Fandom: HIGHLANDER
Pairing: Methos/Kronos, Methos/Duncan MacLeod UST
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ciceqi
Author Website: Blood, Love & Rhetoric
Why this must be read: Sleeps With Coyotes is well known for her Methos stories and her Kronos stories (and another dozen fandoms besides), but her insane brand of humor doesn't get the half the recommendations it should. I'm not sure you can read this without laughing yourself silly, and some days, really, that's what you want.
This isn't, quite, a crossover. It doesn't really drag at least three popular movies kicking and screaming (and warped) into the HL universe. It is, however, hilarious. If you want to giggle yourself silly, you've come to the right place.
There were probably worse things to be doing than dragging a headless corpse through the streets of Bordeaux, but Methos couldn't think of any off-hand. Offering Cassandra a manicure, perhaps--or trying to explain to Duncan MacLeod what he was doing lugging his ex-brother's body around with said ex-brother's head in a backpack slung over his shoulder.
Or, better yet, trying to explain it to the nice gendarme that had just turned the corner ahead of him.
"Hey there--wait a minute," the gendarme gasped, staring at Methos with eyes gone huge and panicked. Methos had one arm around Kronos' back, the other hand latched onto Kronos' wrist, Kronos' own arm thrown over Methos' shoulders for leverage. To the casual observer, Kronos might have been falling-down drunk, so long as said observer didn't notice the missing head. Methos had been careful to keep to the back streets to make sure of this, but he'd just happened to cross under a streetlight as the gendarme turned the corner, and there was no hiding that his friend's impairment went a bit further than being a few sheets to the wind.
"Excuse us, officer," Methos smiled brightly, determined to bluff it out. By the time he dropped Kronos and reached for his gun, the gendarme would have raised holy hell, and then where would he be? Trying to explain a decapitated corpse to a considerably wider audience than one judgmental Scot, that was where. "My friend and I were just coming back from a party, see, and I'm afraid he's a bit drunk--"
"Drunk?" the gendarme demanded, his voice spiraling up a good two octaves before it broke in self-defense. "He's not drunk--his head's missing!"
"No it's not," Methos scowled at the man, putting on a convincing expression of outraged horror. "He's just passed out."
"Look, I know a dead man when I see one!" the officer insisted, coming a stumbling step forward and pointing at Kronos with an unsteady hand.
"No, no, he's just passed out," Methos repeated firmly, staring at the cop like the other man was out of his mind. Sometimes, if he did that long enough, the gullible fools actually fell for it...
"Passed out! He's got no head!"
"Look, I told you, he's just passed out!"
"Right--well, wake him up then!" the gendarme all but screamed, closing the gap between them by another step. The man was probably close enough to see the ragged shards of Kronos' shattered spine, the flesh cauterized by the Quickening and the meager necklace of blood that had seeped from the wound regardless. "Hello! Monsieur! Wake up, Monsieur! You see?" the officer demanded when Kronos didn't move. "Stone dead!"
Miracles, Cheap
Pairing: Methos/Kronos, Methos/Duncan MacLeod UST
Author on LJ:
ciceqiAuthor Website: Blood, Love & Rhetoric
Why this must be read: Sleeps With Coyotes is well known for her Methos stories and her Kronos stories (and another dozen fandoms besides), but her insane brand of humor doesn't get the half the recommendations it should. I'm not sure you can read this without laughing yourself silly, and some days, really, that's what you want.
This isn't, quite, a crossover. It doesn't really drag at least three popular movies kicking and screaming (and warped) into the HL universe. It is, however, hilarious. If you want to giggle yourself silly, you've come to the right place.
There were probably worse things to be doing than dragging a headless corpse through the streets of Bordeaux, but Methos couldn't think of any off-hand. Offering Cassandra a manicure, perhaps--or trying to explain to Duncan MacLeod what he was doing lugging his ex-brother's body around with said ex-brother's head in a backpack slung over his shoulder.
Or, better yet, trying to explain it to the nice gendarme that had just turned the corner ahead of him.
"Hey there--wait a minute," the gendarme gasped, staring at Methos with eyes gone huge and panicked. Methos had one arm around Kronos' back, the other hand latched onto Kronos' wrist, Kronos' own arm thrown over Methos' shoulders for leverage. To the casual observer, Kronos might have been falling-down drunk, so long as said observer didn't notice the missing head. Methos had been careful to keep to the back streets to make sure of this, but he'd just happened to cross under a streetlight as the gendarme turned the corner, and there was no hiding that his friend's impairment went a bit further than being a few sheets to the wind.
"Excuse us, officer," Methos smiled brightly, determined to bluff it out. By the time he dropped Kronos and reached for his gun, the gendarme would have raised holy hell, and then where would he be? Trying to explain a decapitated corpse to a considerably wider audience than one judgmental Scot, that was where. "My friend and I were just coming back from a party, see, and I'm afraid he's a bit drunk--"
"Drunk?" the gendarme demanded, his voice spiraling up a good two octaves before it broke in self-defense. "He's not drunk--his head's missing!"
"No it's not," Methos scowled at the man, putting on a convincing expression of outraged horror. "He's just passed out."
"Look, I know a dead man when I see one!" the officer insisted, coming a stumbling step forward and pointing at Kronos with an unsteady hand.
"No, no, he's just passed out," Methos repeated firmly, staring at the cop like the other man was out of his mind. Sometimes, if he did that long enough, the gullible fools actually fell for it...
"Passed out! He's got no head!"
"Look, I told you, he's just passed out!"
"Right--well, wake him up then!" the gendarme all but screamed, closing the gap between them by another step. The man was probably close enough to see the ragged shards of Kronos' shattered spine, the flesh cauterized by the Quickening and the meager necklace of blood that had seeped from the wound regardless. "Hello! Monsieur! Wake up, Monsieur! You see?" the officer demanded when Kronos didn't move. "Stone dead!"
Miracles, Cheap