fractured_sun (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
fractured-sun.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2009-10-12 08:09 pm
fractured-sun.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-10-12 08:09 pm
Entry tags:
House of novelty T-shirts by Genteelrebel (NC-17)
Fandom: HIGHLANDER
Pairing: Methos/Joe,
Length: 44,000 words
Author on LJ:![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
genteelrebel
Author Website: Genny's fanfic site
Why this must be read: This is a fantastic sequel to the lovely 'Adam and Joe' but will stand alone very well. Joe and Methos are makiing a new life for themselves under new identities. Told mostly through the point of view of their young neighbour, it's heartwarming and funny but also sad and touching. I love the point of view of this and it offers some great insights into the characters and into the impact of immortality on the lives they lead. Please read the warnings at the start of the fic first.
It was the pair of leather library chairs that first caught Milly’s attention.
She’d been sitting behind the garden hedge for more than ten minutes, watching the moving men unload her new neighbor’s things. At first, all she’d seen was an extremely boring selection of large cardboard boxes, so boring that Milly had been about to give up her spying in favor of finding something more interesting to do. But then the movers started unloading the furniture, and suddenly she was fascinated. The huge leather chairs were shiny, colored a rich mahogany that shone richly in the sun, and liberally tufted with brass studs that to Milly’s six-year-old eye looked like a wealth of golden coins. Other treasures soon followed. A large and mysterious wooden trunk, bordered with iron corners and secured with a huge rusted lock that could have once guarded a pirate’s hoard. A huge and wondrous Grandfather’s clock, the pendulum carefully encased in bubble wrap. Bookcase after bookcase after bookcase, ranging from cheap fiberboard constructions to odd looking things with glass doors that flipped up—did anybody in the world really have enough books to fill that many cases? Milly watched curiously, and the next thing she knew, one of the moving men was emerging from the van with a genuine stuffed swordfish on a plaque, large and curving and heavy. The scales glittered magically in the early morning sunshine. “Where do you want this, Mr. Darwin?”
Milly followed the moving man’s gaze to the front porch, where a man with white hair and beard had just limped into view. He was wearing a sweatshirt that said “Don’t b sharp, don’t b flat, just b natural” and was leaning on a four-footed cane. “I don’t know, that particular monstrosity belongs to the other half,” he said, and called back into the house. “Alex! The movers want to know where to put your damn fish thing!”
“You mean the swordfish? It’s got to go in my study,” returned a voice from inside the house. Milly thought that the voice sounded funny, like the people on the Discovery Channel sometimes talked. A few moments later a tall, dark haired man appeared on the porch, a rakish smile on his face. He, too, wore a sweatshirt with writing on the front, one that read: “Sarcasm. Just one of the many fine services I offer.” Milly thought he had a very large nose. “You can’t have a really proper, masculine study without a swordfish on the wall,” he said. “It’s an unwritten law.”
“You’re a nut,” the first man said, but Milly thought there was more affection than annoyance in the words. “Down the hall, first door on the right,” he said to the moving man, and when the mover had nodded and disappeared through the front door the white-haired man lowered his voice. “Where did you get that thing, anyway? And don’t try to tell me you caught it fishing off the coast of Florida with Hemingway, either. I won’t believe you.”
The rakish smiled deepened. “Well, as a matter of fact…”
“Stow it. I don’t think I want to know.” The mover reappeared, and both men got a strained, subtly guilty look, as if they’d been caught talking about something they shouldn’t have. Milly frowned, confused. “Anyway,” the first man said, more quietly this time. “I thought you wanted to hang the sword collection in the study. Isn’t that what you said when we took them out of storage?”
“I did. It’s best to establish myself to the neighbors as a medieval weapons buff right away. Could save awkward questions later.” The white-haired man nodded soberly. The tall man smiled. “But there should be plenty of room on the wall for my little marine friend, too. It will be a nice visual pun, don’t you think? Swords…swordfish…”
“Nut,” the white-haired man said again, and this time there was no question: he meant it as a term of endearment. “That goes in the dining room,” he told the moving men, who had just navigated a large oak table out of the back of the van. When the movers had grunted their way with the table inside the house the white-haired man took a furtive look down the street—completely failing to see the six-year-old girl crouching behind the hedge—and slipped an arm around the other man’s waist. His voice lowered even further. “Going to be happy here, Old Man?”
“I think so,” answered the other, just as softly. “It’s a nice neighborhood, quiet. The house needs a lot of fixing up, but that will just give us something to do to keep us out of trouble while we’re settling in. And the university’s offered me a great salary, thanks to Dr. Porter’s impressive credentials…”
“Fake credentials.”
“Real credentials, thank you very much. I really did get an advanced degree in linguistics from Trinity College, once upon a time. Just sadly a bit too long ago to put the real date on my resume,” the tall man corrected. “Anyway, we won’t have to worry about money for a while. We can easily live on my paycheck without dipping into any of the Swiss accounts.” He looked around the yard sadly. “We may eventually regret coming back to the US if the political climate keeps going in the direction it is, but for right now…well, I think this will be a good place to spend a few years. We can get back on our feet, get used to not being Adam and Joe for a while before we set out for shores unknown. Besides.” The tall man turned around and looked into the white-haired man’s eyes fondly. “You’re here. What more do I need to be happy?”
Link here
Pairing: Methos/Joe,
Length: 44,000 words
Author on LJ:
genteelrebel Author Website: Genny's fanfic site
Why this must be read: This is a fantastic sequel to the lovely 'Adam and Joe' but will stand alone very well. Joe and Methos are makiing a new life for themselves under new identities. Told mostly through the point of view of their young neighbour, it's heartwarming and funny but also sad and touching. I love the point of view of this and it offers some great insights into the characters and into the impact of immortality on the lives they lead. Please read the warnings at the start of the fic first.
It was the pair of leather library chairs that first caught Milly’s attention.
She’d been sitting behind the garden hedge for more than ten minutes, watching the moving men unload her new neighbor’s things. At first, all she’d seen was an extremely boring selection of large cardboard boxes, so boring that Milly had been about to give up her spying in favor of finding something more interesting to do. But then the movers started unloading the furniture, and suddenly she was fascinated. The huge leather chairs were shiny, colored a rich mahogany that shone richly in the sun, and liberally tufted with brass studs that to Milly’s six-year-old eye looked like a wealth of golden coins. Other treasures soon followed. A large and mysterious wooden trunk, bordered with iron corners and secured with a huge rusted lock that could have once guarded a pirate’s hoard. A huge and wondrous Grandfather’s clock, the pendulum carefully encased in bubble wrap. Bookcase after bookcase after bookcase, ranging from cheap fiberboard constructions to odd looking things with glass doors that flipped up—did anybody in the world really have enough books to fill that many cases? Milly watched curiously, and the next thing she knew, one of the moving men was emerging from the van with a genuine stuffed swordfish on a plaque, large and curving and heavy. The scales glittered magically in the early morning sunshine. “Where do you want this, Mr. Darwin?”
Milly followed the moving man’s gaze to the front porch, where a man with white hair and beard had just limped into view. He was wearing a sweatshirt that said “Don’t b sharp, don’t b flat, just b natural” and was leaning on a four-footed cane. “I don’t know, that particular monstrosity belongs to the other half,” he said, and called back into the house. “Alex! The movers want to know where to put your damn fish thing!”
“You mean the swordfish? It’s got to go in my study,” returned a voice from inside the house. Milly thought that the voice sounded funny, like the people on the Discovery Channel sometimes talked. A few moments later a tall, dark haired man appeared on the porch, a rakish smile on his face. He, too, wore a sweatshirt with writing on the front, one that read: “Sarcasm. Just one of the many fine services I offer.” Milly thought he had a very large nose. “You can’t have a really proper, masculine study without a swordfish on the wall,” he said. “It’s an unwritten law.”
“You’re a nut,” the first man said, but Milly thought there was more affection than annoyance in the words. “Down the hall, first door on the right,” he said to the moving man, and when the mover had nodded and disappeared through the front door the white-haired man lowered his voice. “Where did you get that thing, anyway? And don’t try to tell me you caught it fishing off the coast of Florida with Hemingway, either. I won’t believe you.”
The rakish smiled deepened. “Well, as a matter of fact…”
“Stow it. I don’t think I want to know.” The mover reappeared, and both men got a strained, subtly guilty look, as if they’d been caught talking about something they shouldn’t have. Milly frowned, confused. “Anyway,” the first man said, more quietly this time. “I thought you wanted to hang the sword collection in the study. Isn’t that what you said when we took them out of storage?”
“I did. It’s best to establish myself to the neighbors as a medieval weapons buff right away. Could save awkward questions later.” The white-haired man nodded soberly. The tall man smiled. “But there should be plenty of room on the wall for my little marine friend, too. It will be a nice visual pun, don’t you think? Swords…swordfish…”
“Nut,” the white-haired man said again, and this time there was no question: he meant it as a term of endearment. “That goes in the dining room,” he told the moving men, who had just navigated a large oak table out of the back of the van. When the movers had grunted their way with the table inside the house the white-haired man took a furtive look down the street—completely failing to see the six-year-old girl crouching behind the hedge—and slipped an arm around the other man’s waist. His voice lowered even further. “Going to be happy here, Old Man?”
“I think so,” answered the other, just as softly. “It’s a nice neighborhood, quiet. The house needs a lot of fixing up, but that will just give us something to do to keep us out of trouble while we’re settling in. And the university’s offered me a great salary, thanks to Dr. Porter’s impressive credentials…”
“Fake credentials.”
“Real credentials, thank you very much. I really did get an advanced degree in linguistics from Trinity College, once upon a time. Just sadly a bit too long ago to put the real date on my resume,” the tall man corrected. “Anyway, we won’t have to worry about money for a while. We can easily live on my paycheck without dipping into any of the Swiss accounts.” He looked around the yard sadly. “We may eventually regret coming back to the US if the political climate keeps going in the direction it is, but for right now…well, I think this will be a good place to spend a few years. We can get back on our feet, get used to not being Adam and Joe for a while before we set out for shores unknown. Besides.” The tall man turned around and looked into the white-haired man’s eyes fondly. “You’re here. What more do I need to be happy?”
Link here
no subject
no subject