Who:![]()
Quinn&![]()
Methos
Prompt:3. Patching up. Whoops! One of you was stupid and got in a fight, and needs a little help. Good thing the other's gracious enough to help!
Rating: R (for suggested adult content/situations)
Word Count: 1151 *gasp*
One of the things Quinn loved most about the property she had with Methos was the fact she could have horses again. In centuries gone by, they'd been a necessity. Now, they were a hobby. But that still didn't mean she didn't enjoy having something of a small band around the place. It just made it feel more like home, especially since that meant she could also tease Methos to no end about his days of being Death on a Horse. Laughing softly, she pushed open the door to the mudroom adjacent to the kitchen to take off her mucky boots. She could already smell the scents of something cooking.
"Is that you...?" her other half called from the kitchen.
"Course not!" she answered with a laugh. "It's the bloody Queen o'Sheba comin' ta pay yeh a house call."
"Well, you'll just have to tell her to come back another time." She could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm busy tonight."
Finally freed of her boots, Quinn padded into the kitchen and was greeted with something of a disaster area. Ingredients and empty containers were scattered about the countertops next to dirty bowls and utensils. She was absolutely gobsmacked at the state of her domain.
"Tha hell's all this?"
"Dinner."
She crossed her arms and raised a ginger eyebrow at him. "Looks more of a disaster ta me."
"Oh, ye of little faith." There was a teasing note behind the impish smirk as he walked over to her with a nice glass of red wine. He'd known she'd been a novice in a convent at one point, and never failed to tease her about it. "Now, why don't you go relax in that enormous tub you enjoy so much? And I promise that by the time you're done, everything will be exactly the way you had it."
His words were followed by another impish smirk and a quick kiss.
"They'd better be," she replied, taking the glass of wine from him. "Wha's th'occasion anyway?"
"Do I need one?" His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, all right. You. You're the occasion. As much as I love sharing a home, and a life, with you, I think I've been neglecting what we have. And that's something I'd like to change."
Quinn simply stared at him. "Are yeh feelin' alright, luv?"
"Never better." He followed his words with a lingering kiss. "Now, go have a bath, and if you're still in it by the time I'm done here, I might be tempted to wash your back."
"Just might?" She teased back.
"We'll see."
Chuckling quietly to herself, Quinn went upstairs to get cleaned up. She couldn't help but think about what Methos had said downstairs about neglecting her. Strangely enough, she didn't feel neglected. It was true that they'd settled into something of a routine since moving into their new house, but she didn't mind. She loved having a life with him. She loved waking up with him every morning and having a round or two between the sheets (and maybe in the shower) before heading down to breakfast. After that, it was usually down to the barn to see to the horses they kept. If not, they usually found ways of keeping themselves occupied and out of each other's hair. But if he wanted to shake that up, who was she to argue?
To that end, she finished her bath and decided to primp up a little. Alright, maybe a lot. She dried and curled her hair, added a few touches of cosmetics and a spritz of perfume, then donned her favourite little black dress and heels. She was surprised to find him in a suit and tie waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase.
"Dear gods," he exhaled softly, watching her. "I should apologise more often if it gets you into that dress."
She smirked and leant in for a light kiss, which quickly turned into something much more passionate before she could gently back off. "Guess tha' means I don' haveta ask what's for dessert."
An impish look crossed his lips. "You'll just have to get through the main course to find out."
"Which is...?"
"You'll see."
Offering her his arm, he gallantly escorted her into their formal dining room where he pulled out a chair for her. Candles had already been lit next to an enormous bouquet of red roses. Two places had already been set with glasses of red wine, salads, and two plates covered with silver domes. Methos couldn't resist a bit of a flourish as he unveiled his hard work. Quinn was indeed impressed with the beef Wellington, asparagus and carrots, and the scent had her mouth watering.
"I would say somethin' about yeh meetin' yer Waterloo..."
"More like my Josephine."
"Oh, and if yeh say one word about dividin' and conquerin', I will thump you!"
"Must you always resort to violence?"
"Only when it comes to yeh."
"I love you, too."
The next few minutes were spent in relative silence as they ate. Quinn had to admit, for as difficult a recipe as beef Wellington was, he'd done alright. More than alright, really. In fact, she could almost forgive him the disaster of a kitchen she'd seen earlier.
"Yer right," she said after a few moments.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked with a mock choke, which she returned with a wry look.
"Yer right about this, us. I missed it."
Taking her hand, he ran a thumb over her knuckles and smiled. "I'm glad you agree."
"Oh, fer gods' sake. I'm not that much of a shrew, am I?"
"Yes, but I love a good challenge."
"Oh, so that's what's kept yeh comin' back."
"Well, that and you're a decent cook."
"Decent am I?"
Another teasing smirk crossed his face. "And I think it goes without saying how much I enjoy it when you're indecent."
That nearly had her choking on her wine. The hand that had been holding hers suddenly tugged her around the table and pulled her into his lap, his fingers already inching up under the hem of her dress. Whatever protest she'd been about to make was smothered in a heated kiss.
"I think six hours is far too much time to be decent," he murmured, nibbling at her jaw and neck. "Perhaps we should spend the rest of the evening being indecent just to make up for lost time."
Words failed her as his fingers slid underneath the black lace between her legs.
"I also think that it's time for dessert..."
Quinn&MethosPrompt:3. Patching up. Whoops! One of you was stupid and got in a fight, and needs a little help. Good thing the other's gracious enough to help!
Rating: R (for suggested adult content/situations)
Word Count: 1151 *gasp*
One of the things Quinn loved most about the property she had with Methos was the fact she could have horses again. In centuries gone by, they'd been a necessity. Now, they were a hobby. But that still didn't mean she didn't enjoy having something of a small band around the place. It just made it feel more like home, especially since that meant she could also tease Methos to no end about his days of being Death on a Horse. Laughing softly, she pushed open the door to the mudroom adjacent to the kitchen to take off her mucky boots. She could already smell the scents of something cooking.
"Is that you...?" her other half called from the kitchen.
"Course not!" she answered with a laugh. "It's the bloody Queen o'Sheba comin' ta pay yeh a house call."
"Well, you'll just have to tell her to come back another time." She could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm busy tonight."
Finally freed of her boots, Quinn padded into the kitchen and was greeted with something of a disaster area. Ingredients and empty containers were scattered about the countertops next to dirty bowls and utensils. She was absolutely gobsmacked at the state of her domain.
"Tha hell's all this?"
"Dinner."
She crossed her arms and raised a ginger eyebrow at him. "Looks more of a disaster ta me."
"Oh, ye of little faith." There was a teasing note behind the impish smirk as he walked over to her with a nice glass of red wine. He'd known she'd been a novice in a convent at one point, and never failed to tease her about it. "Now, why don't you go relax in that enormous tub you enjoy so much? And I promise that by the time you're done, everything will be exactly the way you had it."
His words were followed by another impish smirk and a quick kiss.
"They'd better be," she replied, taking the glass of wine from him. "Wha's th'occasion anyway?"
"Do I need one?" His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, all right. You. You're the occasion. As much as I love sharing a home, and a life, with you, I think I've been neglecting what we have. And that's something I'd like to change."
Quinn simply stared at him. "Are yeh feelin' alright, luv?"
"Never better." He followed his words with a lingering kiss. "Now, go have a bath, and if you're still in it by the time I'm done here, I might be tempted to wash your back."
"Just might?" She teased back.
"We'll see."
Chuckling quietly to herself, Quinn went upstairs to get cleaned up. She couldn't help but think about what Methos had said downstairs about neglecting her. Strangely enough, she didn't feel neglected. It was true that they'd settled into something of a routine since moving into their new house, but she didn't mind. She loved having a life with him. She loved waking up with him every morning and having a round or two between the sheets (and maybe in the shower) before heading down to breakfast. After that, it was usually down to the barn to see to the horses they kept. If not, they usually found ways of keeping themselves occupied and out of each other's hair. But if he wanted to shake that up, who was she to argue?
To that end, she finished her bath and decided to primp up a little. Alright, maybe a lot. She dried and curled her hair, added a few touches of cosmetics and a spritz of perfume, then donned her favourite little black dress and heels. She was surprised to find him in a suit and tie waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase.
"Dear gods," he exhaled softly, watching her. "I should apologise more often if it gets you into that dress."
She smirked and leant in for a light kiss, which quickly turned into something much more passionate before she could gently back off. "Guess tha' means I don' haveta ask what's for dessert."
An impish look crossed his lips. "You'll just have to get through the main course to find out."
"Which is...?"
"You'll see."
Offering her his arm, he gallantly escorted her into their formal dining room where he pulled out a chair for her. Candles had already been lit next to an enormous bouquet of red roses. Two places had already been set with glasses of red wine, salads, and two plates covered with silver domes. Methos couldn't resist a bit of a flourish as he unveiled his hard work. Quinn was indeed impressed with the beef Wellington, asparagus and carrots, and the scent had her mouth watering.
"I would say somethin' about yeh meetin' yer Waterloo..."
"More like my Josephine."
"Oh, and if yeh say one word about dividin' and conquerin', I will thump you!"
"Must you always resort to violence?"
"Only when it comes to yeh."
"I love you, too."
The next few minutes were spent in relative silence as they ate. Quinn had to admit, for as difficult a recipe as beef Wellington was, he'd done alright. More than alright, really. In fact, she could almost forgive him the disaster of a kitchen she'd seen earlier.
"Yer right," she said after a few moments.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked with a mock choke, which she returned with a wry look.
"Yer right about this, us. I missed it."
Taking her hand, he ran a thumb over her knuckles and smiled. "I'm glad you agree."
"Oh, fer gods' sake. I'm not that much of a shrew, am I?"
"Yes, but I love a good challenge."
"Oh, so that's what's kept yeh comin' back."
"Well, that and you're a decent cook."
"Decent am I?"
Another teasing smirk crossed his face. "And I think it goes without saying how much I enjoy it when you're indecent."
That nearly had her choking on her wine. The hand that had been holding hers suddenly tugged her around the table and pulled her into his lap, his fingers already inching up under the hem of her dress. Whatever protest she'd been about to make was smothered in a heated kiss.
"I think six hours is far too much time to be decent," he murmured, nibbling at her jaw and neck. "Perhaps we should spend the rest of the evening being indecent just to make up for lost time."
Words failed her as his fingers slid underneath the black lace between her legs.
"I also think that it's time for dessert..."
