Snip,
snip.
Methos
lifted up his head from the book he was reading, slightly puzzled.
Faint footsteps could be heard.
'He's
trying to sneak up on me,' he thought. 'What's the snipping noise, though?'
Snip,
snip.
"MacLeod...,"
said Methos, warily. "What are
you up to?"
"Nothing,"
replied Duncan, innocently.
Snip,
snip.
Methos
spun his head around, to find Duncan advancing on him with a pair of scissors in
his hand, and a determined look on his face.
"MacLeod!..."
Methos growled. "What are you
doing with those scissors?...And why on earth are you snipping them like a
psychopathic murderer?"
"Just
getting you used to the sound, so you don't panic and take my head,"
replied Duncan matter-of-factly.
Methos
glared at him dangerously.
"Back
off. I mean it.
One step closer and you will lose your head."
Duncan
stopped, hurt.
"Oooowwwww,"
he whined. "But, Methie...,"
he started sweetly.
"My
name is not 'Methie', it's Methos - so call me that. Geez, what's wrong with you today?" Methos said a little
too harshly.
Duncan's
bottom lip started wobbling.
"Oh,
no you don't," Methos quickly warned.
"It won't work so don't bother trying."
Now
the eyebrows were moving upwards and inwards, as the forehead creased
emotionally, and the bottom lip grew larger.
Methos quickly turned around and gazed intently at the book he'd been
reading, desperately trying to ignore the blubbering and sniffling noises coming
from the Highlander.
Sniffle,
sniffle.
Snip,
snip.
Methos
dug his head under a pillow on the couch and squashed it to his ears.
He peeped out a corner and saw Duncan hovering over him, nervously
snipping the scissors, while pulling huge puppydog eyes at Methos.
"Oh,
you've got to be joking!" said
Methos, exasperated.
Sniffle.
Pout.
Snip.
"Oh,
for Christ's sake, MacLeod!" Methos yelled, throwing the pillow to the
ground. "What do you
want?!"
"Wanna
cut your hair, Methie," pouted Duncan, in a tentative little voice.
"ExCUSE
me!" Methos exclaimed, shocked. "You
want to cut my hair?!" He
stared at the blubbering highlander, who was currently trying unsuccessfully to
fidget while holding scissors in his hand.
"Yep,"
Duncan mumbled sulkily.
Methos
stared blank faced at him for a moment.
"Why?!"
"'Coz."
"Because
why?" Methos probed, though suspecting he knew the answer.
"Just
'coz," Duncan replied stubbornly.
'God,
he's predictable sometimes,' thought Methos.
He
decided to try a new tactic.
"What's
wrong with my hair?" he asked suspiciously, with a hint of hurt feelings.
"Nufnink.
Just wanna."
"Oh,
you're not getting away with this, MacLeod," Methos shot back, refusing to
fall for the 'cute little child' voice Duncan was trying on him.
"I want a proper, adult, reason, or I'm going to confiscate those scissors," he
added, attempting a new angle.
'This
might just work,' he thought.
"Oooooowwwwww,
Meeeeeeffffiieeee!!!!"
'Yes!'
Methos thought. 'It's working!....'
Then a thought hit him: 'Meefie?...Did he just call me Meefie?
God, this is getting worse!'
"I'm
sorry, MacLeod," he said out loud, "but
if you insist on acting like a child, then I'm going to treat you like one.
You don't want me to ground you, do you?"
Duncan
stuck his bottom lip out in a professional pout, and stamped his foot on the
ground.
"Not
fair!"
He
paused in thought for a second, then, shooting a full scale sulky glare at
Methos, turned around and stormed off.
"Finally,"
mumbled Methos to himself. "Peace
and normality reside again."
He
turned back to the book he was reading, and concentrated on where he had left
off.
Snip,
snip.
Methos'
head shot up, but he didn't dare turn around, in the hope that he might just be
imagining it.
Snip,
snip.
Methos'
eyes narrowed, and without turning his head, he whispered dangerously: "MacLeod...."
Silence.
"MacLeod,
I know you're there...," Methos warned.
Snip,
snip. Snip, snip.
Methos
spun his head around, and glared at the figure of the Highlander, who stood at
the doorway of his bedroom, innocently looking everywhere but at Methos.
He suddenly pretended he'd just noticed Methos had said something, and
turned poker-faced towards him.
"Yep?"
"You've
got to be joking!"
"What?"
Methos
shook his head in frustration, and continued on.
"I
know you still have the scissors, MacLeod," he said with strained patience.
"You snip them nervously every time you're worried."
Snip,
snip.
"Look,
you just did it then!" Methos shouted.
"No,
I didn't," Duncan said, confused.
"Yes,
you.....NO!...I'm not going to play this stupid
game with you, OK! You're driving
me crazy!"
Methos
jumped up from the couch, grabbed his book, and stormed out of the room in one
swift moment. Doors could be heard
slamming as Methos made his way out into the street.
A
few minutes passed.
Then...
Hehehehehehe,"
Duncan chuckled, and with a quick movement, jumped into the vacant couch, turned
on the TV, and settled down for the night.
THE END
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