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Methos Conquers the World

I was curled up at my computer a couple of days after Christmas, reading a story and Hubby was behind me at his computer, installing his Christmas present, Civilization III. He got it started up, and ran through the tutorial, and settled in for a long bout of game playing. Civilization II was his favorite game ever, and he's been quite excited about the upgrade.

The happy little conquer-the-world music was playing merrily behind me, when suddenly I heard an almost audible 'pop' as Methos appeared from nowhere to stand behind Hubby's chair.

"What is *that*?" He asked me imperiously, looking at Hubby's screen.

"Civilization III. It's a conquer-the-world game. Supposed to be one of the best tactical games ever created."

"That's ridiculous. You can't simulate that sort of thing on a computer." He wasn't fooling me. The mere fact he'd shown up at all, and in such a hurry, had already given him away.

The sound of Hubby's 'evil laugh' (patent number 30005678-34) filled the room. "Ha! Babylon has fallen! Time to put the governor to death!"

Methos sneered. "See? That's exactly what I'm talking about. Babylon didn't have a 'governor'."

"Who cares?" I answered. "The conquering army just put the man to the sword. He's dead. They can change his title to 'janitor' if they want."

There was no answer. Methos was frowning slightly, and staring rather fixedly at Hubby's computer screen. The room went quiet, with the exception of Civ III's happy dictator musical score. After some time spent reading, I realized it'd been quite for a long time. I turned around to see Methos, curled up in the corner, his laptop open, and the Civ III disks he'd filched scattered around him on the floor.

"What?" he asked blandly.

"I thought it was a stupid game," I said with a smirk. (Warning: smirking at muses is almost never a good idea. Don't try this at home, kids.)

"Actually, you were right. It *is* a very tactical game. And it has all the pleasures of vicarious conquest without the 30 mile a day marches or the bad food. Or the leaky tents."

"O' course," said Kate's voice as she chimed in, "ya don' get your pick o' the captives at the end of the day, either." She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

"That was really in poor taste, Kate," Duncan's voice surprised us all from the doorway. It'd been so long since Duncan showed up, we figured he'd gone for good.

"Poor taste, Mac? Give it a rest," Kate said with a sigh. "One of us in this room has *been* a female prisoner of war. If tha' one of us can have a sense o' humor about it, I'd bloody well think the others of us could manage."

Methos hid his smile behind his laptop screen. Duncan frowned even more fiercely, and started to leave.

"Wait!" I called. "I've got a couple of questions while you're here! What's the deal with Sam?" He was already gone. "I'm never going to finish Stars & Lightning if he doesn't show up for his parts or answer any questions. You two *could* quit antagonizing him, you know."

Methos smirked back and Kate smiled as she said, "Not antagonize MacLeod? What's th' point of having him around, then?"

Cursing a blue streak, I returned to the computer.

"Where did you even learn some of those words?" Methos asked appreciatively, glancing up at me from his computer.

"I've been coachin' her," Kate answered. "She was frightfully ethno-centric."

"Hey," I responded. "I can curse in Brit-slang, too, not just American." They looked at me dubiously. "I bloody well can."

Methos shook his head, tapped a few keys on the laptop, and spoke without looking up. "Speaking of Brit-speak, it's nice to hear your real voice, Kate. I wish she didn't have you doing that horrible American accent for S&L."

"I hate typing accents. It always looks stupid," I said. Kate shrugged.

"So why bother w't Kiltboy?" Kate's use of the nickname caused Methos to giggle behind his screen. "Why na' just ask Sam?" Kate gave me a puzzled glance.

"Sam?"

"Sure. She's got a say in it, too, y' know."

"More, actually, since we're perfectly aware MacLeod will sleep with *anything* that has breasts."

"Don' be bitter, Methos."

"Ha. London has fallen. Off to take America now."

"Ask me what?" Sam said. She looked around the small office for a chair and finding none, leaned against the windowsill.

"I need to know about you and -- no, Kate, I'm not calling him Kiltboy. Not. -- Duncan."

"Uh... can *I* call him 'Kiltboy'?" Sam asked, peeking around the edges of Methos' computer screen. "Ooh. Civ III. I love that game."

"So that's a 'no', huh?"

"It's not that he isn't...pretty. And well built. It's just that ... uh, ..."

"What our beautiful girl is trying to say is that he isn't, what's your phrase, child?, 'lunatic fringe' enough for her. Samantha likes her men to have their naughty side closer to the surface. Like hers." Long fingers clicked across the keyboard, and Methos gave a triumphant smirk as his ships hit American soil.

"Naughty side?" Sam almost squeaked.

"Oh, please. No one works that hard a being a good girl unless they've got something to hide. I'm rather a good judge of character, you know."

"You're not that smart. You don't know that much about me."

"I'm willing to bet -- oh, let's make it something interesting, shall we? -- I'm willing to bet you've got a tattoo on your bum. Probably Air Force wings. Want to call the stakes, Samantha?"

Sam turned a deep red, and Methos smiled a charming, evil smile at her and turned back to his game. "I should have got her to agree to the bet first," he said to his computer.

"How'd you know?"

"I mentioned the 'good judge of character' part, right?" Methos continued to play while Sam chewed on her lip and studied him. After a bit he looked up at her and shook his head. "No," he said, and looked back down.

"No, what?"

"No, I'm not falling for that trap. Jack's furious enough about Daniel. If I sleep with one more member of his team ... well, I'm just not."

"Afraid o' Jack, Methos?" Kate asked with a smile.

"Not afraid, aware. There's a certain tilt a man gets to his head when he's become really good at hiding bodies and lying about it afterwards. Dancing up to the line and not crossing it is a finely honed skill of mine."

"Let me guess: good judge o' character?" Methos merely grinned.

"So... was that it?" Sam asked me.

"Oh, I suppose for now. So you're not dating Duncan?"

"Not 'dating', no."

"What she means by that," Methos said without looking up, "is that she'll be more than happy to fuck his brains out and kick him out of bed, if you need her to."

Sam frowned at him, but didn't protest. I raised an eyebrow, and she turned the frown on me. "Hey, I *never* get laid. Jack and Daniel? Oh, yeah, all the damn time. Sam? No, never -- unless it's Jack. How come I don't get to get laid?"

"I don' get laid, either," Kate pouted.

"You're an OFC, Kate. You're not supposed to. I'm a canon character. I can get laid, I just never do."

"Never's na accurate. There's some Sam/Teal'c stuff that's ... uh, what'd I say?"

"Ewww. No. Not no, but 'Ewwwww No'."

"No Teal'c?"

"Two words: larva Goa'uld. I don't see *you* wanting to jump him," she pointed out accusedly, and Methos laughed at the expression on Kate's face.

"Okay, fair enough."

"Okay. Well, if that's all, I'm heading out."

Methos nodded and a goodbye and Kate waved as Sam left. Then Kate tilted her head as a cry went up from Methos' computer. He looked up.

"Just took Boston."

"What on Earth do you want wit' Boston?"

"It's not Boston, per se. It's the first step to taking America."

Happy world-domination music filled the air, I read stories, and Kate split her attention between Hubby and Methos.

"Well," Kate finally said as she stood up, "I'm bored, an' tha' music's gonna drive me insane. I really just wanted to watch Methos go into evil warlord mode." They traded another set of grins, and another fanfare burst from Methos' laptop.

"Kate, be a dear and get the King of America a beer would you?"

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