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crack_van2004-12-15 12:09 am
lastrega.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-12-15 12:09 am
Entry tags:
Cold Comfort, by Unovis (R)
Time for a little seasonal rec.
Fandom: HIGHLANDER
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
unovis_lj
Author Website: Unovis
Why this must be read: Unovis writes beautifully and that's almost all the reason you need to read anything she's written. Her characterisation always rings true and her dialogue is snappy and smart. This is a gorgeous little Christmas story, set in Paris, where Methos is alone but not lonely, apart but welcome, and more loved than he realised.
But not to me! Methos stopped short, blocking a confectioner's door. He thought. He reconsidered. No! Never a Christmas, never an inquiry about a birthday invented or observed. A woman burdened with packages--wrapped packages! Christmas gifts!--elbowed him off the doorstep. He stared at his reflection in the window, pale above a tray of marzipan pigs. I was once given a palace in Spain. I've been presented with emeralds, ivory, incense, and a taxidermied moose. I've been treasured. I've been loved. I've been gifted with the best of 'em, Bub. So what the hell is wrong with you?
He looked at the end pig. The end pig looked back. Was he too recent an acquaintance? Too male? Too unworthy of the bounty MacLeod? Surely not. The man had opened to him his home, his pantry, his plump leather couch. Hell, he'd never be in Paris in December, in this flensing cold, if he didn't think...if he didn't want...if he didn't damn well feel like it. He frowned. He shrugged. Screw MacLeod. He tossed a scarf end past his ear and tacked back into the human flow.
Cold Comfort
Fandom: HIGHLANDER
Pairing: Duncan/Methos
Author on LJ:
unovis_ljAuthor Website: Unovis
Why this must be read: Unovis writes beautifully and that's almost all the reason you need to read anything she's written. Her characterisation always rings true and her dialogue is snappy and smart. This is a gorgeous little Christmas story, set in Paris, where Methos is alone but not lonely, apart but welcome, and more loved than he realised.
But not to me! Methos stopped short, blocking a confectioner's door. He thought. He reconsidered. No! Never a Christmas, never an inquiry about a birthday invented or observed. A woman burdened with packages--wrapped packages! Christmas gifts!--elbowed him off the doorstep. He stared at his reflection in the window, pale above a tray of marzipan pigs. I was once given a palace in Spain. I've been presented with emeralds, ivory, incense, and a taxidermied moose. I've been treasured. I've been loved. I've been gifted with the best of 'em, Bub. So what the hell is wrong with you?
He looked at the end pig. The end pig looked back. Was he too recent an acquaintance? Too male? Too unworthy of the bounty MacLeod? Surely not. The man had opened to him his home, his pantry, his plump leather couch. Hell, he'd never be in Paris in December, in this flensing cold, if he didn't think...if he didn't want...if he didn't damn well feel like it. He frowned. He shrugged. Screw MacLeod. He tossed a scarf end past his ear and tacked back into the human flow.
Cold Comfort
no subject
The GeoCities site is closing. Cold Comfort (http://hlfiction.net/viewstory.php?sid=30&warning=Mature%20Content) is on the Highlander Fiction archive.