Couch Potatoes 

By Lisa Martin

He was lying on the couch, tossing and turning, trying to sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't going to be blessed with the oblivion of sleep. Not tonight, not for many nights to come.

"And that damned couch is broken again!" he muttered to himself. "Wonder who has done it this time." He turned over again, squeezing his eyes shut. That didn't help much either, the images kept going around in his head. "How could he?? How could he do such a thing to me??"

Soft footfalls approached, stopping by the couch. He groaned, just what he needed, another apology, another attempt to make it up. Not this time.

"Go 'way!" he snapped, not even bothering to turn his head. "I don't want to talk with you, I don't want to see you!" He felt the makeshift bed dip, signaling that someone was sitting down. Anger boiled up again, anger and grief. "What part didn't you understand, you stubborn, thickheaded.."

A low chuckle cut off his words. A flash of white-hot rage shot through him at that sound. Wasn't the whole thing not humiliating enough?

"Hey, hey, take it easy!" Hands stopped him before he could lash out and held him firmly. "Mistook me for a thickheaded Scot, didn't you?"

"I heard that!" The voice came from the adjacent room.

"You were supposed to," was the grinned reply.

Slowly he became aware that it was not his lover, ex-lover that was with him. He finally looked up to the man that was holding his hands in an iron grip. Hazel eyes were staring back at him, twinkling in the dim light.

"Oh, it's you," he sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to.."

"I know you didn't." His hands were released and fell limply to his side, his head dipping. "Ahah, look at me." Fingers under his chin, lifting his head. It felt heavy, and it hurt.

"Hurts, doesn't it?'

What could he do but admit it. I did hurt, and he didn't think he could stand it much longer. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I know what it feels like."

That comment sparked the anger again. For a brief moment he had forgotten how much this man annoyed him, but now it was back, with full force. What did this guy think he was?? All knowing?? Been there, done that, probably owned a thousand T-shirts. "Do you now?" he snarled.

The man was not in the least bit intimidated. "Yes, I do," he said quietly. "I know how much it hurts when the one you love treats you like garbage. " He let out a mirthless laugh. "Believe me, I know how that feels like!" Old pain shone through those words. Old, but not forgotten.

The anger drained, much to his own surprise. Yet, he didn't want to let it go, if only for something to hold on to. "So, we're gonna have a pity party?" Much to his own satisfaction, he heard the sarcasm in his voice.

"No. Though the idea of a party does appeal to me."

He stared at his companion in shock. He couldn't be serious! One look in those chameleon eyes, and he had his answer. He was serious. "Well, party without me," he grunted, turning his back to his companion.

"Oh alright! Party is a bad idea. Any other suggestions?" A deep sigh escaped him when there came no answer. "Get drunk?" A disgusted snort. "Talk?" No reply. "Get laid?"

"How about 'leave me alone'?" A pause. "Get what???"

"I knew that was going to get your attention," the man grinned. "Yeah, why not?"

"You are insane," was the gasped answer.

"Probably have been, somewhere in my lifetime." The man grinned again, then his face turned serious. "How about someone to comfort you?"

He let the words sink in, turmoil going on inside him. Closing his eyes, he waited for the war to end, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts, get some sort of peace. He heard a sound, rustling of bedcovers, and his eyes snapped open. Someone else was sitting on the bed beside him, and an arm was laid around his shoulders. Instinctively he leaned into it.

"Excuse me, but I thought I was talking to him." The words came from the man in front of him.

"By the sound of it you weren't planning on just 'talking'." The baritone voice held a note of mischief.

"I hate it when you figure me out."

Laughter rumbled in the chest he was leaning against. "Oh, I haven't even begun yet."

"Well don't. I like to keep some secrets."

He sighed, yet a smile began tugging at the corners of his mouth. They were at it again. Ever since those two moved in, this house had been the scene of constant bickering. At first he hadn't known what to make of it, but after a couple of days he realised that that was it all it was, bickering. Now the verbal sparring matches amused him, made him laugh. It earned him more than one triumphant look from the older (older, younger, he wasn't quite sure about that) man.

"Hey, a smile." The remark was clearly directed at him.

"Don't you two ever stop?" he asked.

"If we stop, we're dead," was the deadpan answer. His smile got broader. Exactly the kind of answer he had anticipated. Did they even realise how predictable they were? Knowing better than to voice this thought, he merely shook his head in amusement.

"That's better. I knew we would get a smile out of you eventually." He felt the anger fade, the grief and pain becoming a little less sharp.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"Don't thank him, he might get vain. Not that he isn't already, but..HMPH.." A very determined hand that was put over the Scot's mouth effectively stopped the tirade. The Scot… It was too much. Emotions, held in check until now, poured out, sobs wrecking his lean frame.

The two other men stared at each other in shock. Then Methos let out a sigh. "I guess this had to happen. He had to let it out." He stood, looked at the sobbing Ray who was hanging in Duncan's arms. "Think this 'thing' will hold the three of us?"

"Think so," MacLeod replied, smiling up at his lover. "Better not leave him alone."

Methos didn't answer, walked round the bed, and lay down on the other side. "It'll do."

Carefully, MacLeod lowered Ray onto the bed, still holding him tightly. Methos shifted until he was lying spooned against Ray's back. Smiling softly, MacLeod touched his face with his free hand. "You care." It wasn't a question.

"Let's say I can relate to what is happening here." The words held no accusation, but hit home none the less. MacLeod drew in a sharp breath, but kept his mouth shut. This was no time to mull over old wrongs and this wasn't about them. He looked down on the man in his arms that had gone quiet now. Judging by the regular breathing he had fallen asleep.

"He's asleep," he whispered.

"Good. Maybe we can get some sleep too. I have a feeling this is far from over."

Morning light streamed through the light curtains. Ray awoke slowly, opened his eyes, that felt like there was sand in them, blinked, blinked again. He felt warm and safe, like being wrapped up in a cocoon. He let out a sound that sounded remarkably like a purr, when he felt soft lips against his shoulder, little nips and kisses.

"Like that, huh?" The voice send a shockwave through his system. That wasn't his lover's voice….All of a sudden the events of the previous night came back to him, and all the pain that went with it. He moaned softly, not having the energy to scream. Arms tightened around him, squeezing gently. The kisses started again, raining over his back and shoulders. He groaned, unable to stop the heat that was rising inside him. He needed this, needed this comforting presence, who ever it was. He closed his eyes and let the feeling overtake him.

The sounds woke up MacLeod. Groggily he glanced around for a moment, his mind trying to catch up with his body. Another moan awoke him fully, and he smiled, looking at his lover and the other man in his arms. Now why wasn't he surprised about this? The only thing that was unusual was the fact that Methos had been the first to wake up. In general, he had to be dragged out of bed kicking and screaming. Duncan chuckled, not that he didn't kick and scream in bed.

"Aha, look who's awake! It's about time!"

"Very funny, old man. I'm not the one who's the grouch in the morning."

"As you say, I'm the eldest, I'm allowed to."

"Will you two stop it!" Ray grunted. "I'm not in the mood for this."

"What are you in the mood for then?" Methos voice was smooth as silk.

"Anything that can make me stop hurting." It was barely a whisper.

He didn't get an answer, not a verbal one anyway. Two bodies were pressed against him, sandwiching him between them. His mouth was taken in a light, hesitant kiss. He responded with force, craving human contact. Hands seemed to be everywhere, stroking his body, setting every nerve ending on fire. He moaned, arching in to the caresses, needing more. Then, other lips were pressed against his, very familiar lips

"What the hell are you doing??"

Lisa nearly jumped out of her skin, jumped up from her chair instead, causing the keyboard to fall on the floor. "Damn! Look what you've done!" she cried.

He moaned, arching in to the caresses, needing more. "More," he pleaded.

"At your service." Ray could feel the smile against his shoulder. The caresses became more passionate, more demanding. He was on fire, all rational thought leaving him. This was what he needed, craved. He squirmed, wanting more contact, getting his wish immediately. A scream built within him, pushing everything aside, and finally he was able to let it out. It was a high pitched wail, filled with pain and grief. Then darkness claimed him.

He came to, still floating down from a dizzying height. It was not an unpleasant feeling, merely a somewhat disorientating one. He smiled, he hadn't felt this good in ages. Slowly, the memories filtered back in his brain. When they hit fully, he wasn't shocked, just smiled again. Who had ever thought that the joking advice he had gotten the night before had turned out to be the right one? A flash of pain disturbed his peaceful feeling for a second, but it disappeared quickly. His arm reached out, searching for his new found friends. To his surprise he found himself alone in the bed.

"Morning!" The cheerful greeting made him look in the direction of the kitchen area. MacLeod was standing there, holding the coffeepot in his hands. "Hungry?"

"Um..no, but that coffee seems like a good idea." Ray sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Coffee coming up." A mug of coffee was poured, and MacLeod handed it to him. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel?"

The concern in the voice was warming. "Better." He met the brown eyes, seeing that same feeling reflected there. "Thank you," he added softly.

"As a friend once said to me, it's no big deal." MacLeod smiled at his own words.

"It is to me. I was drowning; getting more depressed by the minute. " Ray chuckled. "I was ready to kill Methos when he suggested getting laid. Seems he had the right idea after all."

MacLeod grinned. "Annoying, isn't it?'

Ray caught the meaning, and grinned back. "Oh yes!"

"Well, that's what you get for being altruistic." The remark had them both doubling over with laughter, Ray nearly choking on his coffee. "Laugh about it, please do!" Methos snorted, flopping down on the bed, next to MacLeod. Both men did just that, Methos barely able to keep Ray's mug from dropping to the bed. He eyed the object and pulled a face. "Star Trek, whatever next?"

"This!" MacLeod held his own mug in front of Methos' face, who's expression turned into one of utter disgust. "That's even worse. Show off!"

"I kinda like him," Ray commented. Laughing at Methos' incredulous look, he nodded. "I do. Being cooped up with him and his partner in those women's heads for ..oh..about a year and a half now, you get used to him."

"Yeah well, I hope I never do."

"Don't be too sure about that. Never be sure of anything around here!" MacLeod and Methos stared at Ray, questions in their eyes. Ray grinned, shaking his head. "Ever thought we would wind up in bed together?"

"Uh..no," MacLeod confessed. Methos kept quiet, frowning.

"Me neither. But here we are. Has it ever crossed your mind that it was out of our control?"

Methos' eyes grew wide in horror. "Fan fiction writers! Please, please, please, tell me it's not true!" he begged.

" 'Fraid so," Ray said, his eyes twinkling.

"Fan fiction writers?" MacLeod asked, looking very confused.

"Women who write stories about us," Methos groaned.

"What's wrong with that?"

Ray and Methos exchanged a look. "He hasn't read the stories," Ray said.

"No, but I would like to."

"Believe me, you wouldn't," Methos stated. "You know what Kronos was like?'

A dark cloud crossed the Scot's face. "Don't remind me."

"Well, compared to some of those writers, he was as innocent as a new born baby."

"Hey, it's not that bad here!" Ray laughed, seeing the desolate look in MacLeod's eyes. "No torture, some angst, but not too much, and they like funny stories. And the most unlikely pairings."

"Who is 'they'?" Methos asked, still not quite sure if he believed Ray.

"Our hostess and her friend," Ray gestured upwards, " due north of here, pardon the pun."

"Oh, the one she doesn't want us to go to?" MacLeod asked.

"That's the one."

"What did you mean with 'unlikely pairings'?" Methos sounded suspicious.

"Al and me."

"You're kidding!" Methos exclaimed. "And you said they're not into torture??"

That caused a bark of laughter from Ray. "It wasn't. Besides, in the end, we both ended up with the right partners." His face darkened. "But as you might have noticed, my partner is persona non grata at the moment. That's why they cooked this up for me."

"Have they ever written a story about me and another partner?" MacLeod's curiosity had both Methos and Ray laughing.

"You seem to have developed a liking for a certain grad student," Methos grinned.

"Oh, I have." MacLeod leaned against his lover's shoulder.

"Not me, you stupid Scot! No wonder they nicknamed you MacClueless."

"They haven't!!" MacLeod cried out.

"They have, and that's one of the times they are completely right." Methos ignored the glare he got for that remark and continued, "Blair Sandburg."

"Oh, him. Well, I could do worse," MacLeod shrugged.

"And you have Blair, Jim, Mulder…shall I go on?" Ray was enjoying this.

"And those are the good ones," Methos grumbled. "When I think of those vampires.." he shivered.

"Not my idea of fun either," Ray agreed. "There aren't much crossovers about us, though."

"Be grateful for that. And keep your voice down, if they hear you, you are in big trouble. There's no saying who you'll find in your bed the next time you wake up."

"I liked it this time," Ray said, shooting a not so subtle glance in the direction of the two lovers.

"Oh did you now…" Methos looked at MacLeod, who smiled and nodded. As on cue they launched themselves at Ray, the three of them landing on the bed with a 'thump'.

"Beware of the……" A creaking sound, followed by a loud 'bang'. "couch."

END!!!

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