Title: Quips, Wit and Old Faces
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. I’m just playing, no profit involved. If you recognize the characters, they’re not mine.
Spoilers: None. Some time after all the characters showed up in their shows.
Challenge Name Quips, Wit, and Sarcasm
Challenge Issuer Angrycupcake
Challenge Description A grad student, a carpenter, and a soldier meet in a bar... Seriously, write a fic of any length featuring Methos, Xander, and Jack O'Neill interacting with each other in a bar over a drink preferably beer. None of the characters are willingly allowed to spill their secrets. Bonus points if you can squeeze crafty females Anya, Amanda, or Sam Carter in. Challenge Date 2005-04-23
Challenge # 866
AN: not quite fulfillment of the challenge, but a nice short that got all of the required characters in the story. ‘Interact’ is such a broad term.
“You’re old, really old.”
Methos turned around slowly. The bar was crowded and the words were spoken softly. He had no reason to believe that the male speaking was actually addressing him. Except that when he saw the speaker, the one-eyed man was looking right at him. The man smirked at Methos and offered him a beer. “You want?”
Methos was never one for turning down a free beer, so he accepted. He pulled out a chair and sat across from the man, then he studied the mortal in front of him. He took in the tan, the wounds on his hands and the calluses. He noticed that the man did not have a tattoo on his wrist. Two could play this game. “Why would a carpenter call me old?” After all, Methos barely looked over thirty.
The man motioned with his beer at Methos’ book. “That’s old and written in a dead language.”
The Immortal was surprised that a carpenter could recognize that. “I’m a grad student. I translate old and dead languages."
The man snorted. “Isn’t that taking the term ‘eternal student’ a little too far?”
“Would you like to see my ID?” taunted Methos.
Chuckling, the man put down his beer. “I know how easy those are to fake. I bet you a beer that there are at least ten fake ID’s in the room.”
Methos looked around the room. Those five kids in the corner must have fakes and the jittery man at the counter probably had one, but the rest should be genuine. “I accept. There are less than ten fake ID’s in this bar.”
“Deal.” The man agreed. “By the way, name’s Xander.”
“Adam Pierson.” The two shook hands.
“Let’s get to it?” asked Xander. Methos rolled his eyes as he followed Xander to the nearest table. The Old Man watched as Xander charmed his way into seeing the group’s ID’s. And he did it for the next table and the next. By the time that they had reached the teenagers’ table, most of the bar was watching Xander’s clowning. No one had reached a ‘mean drunk’ state yet, so there was much laughter as the teens were ushered out into the night.
The jittery man did have a fake ID, but since he hadn’t started anything, nobody really cared. The surprise for Methos was the couple in the corner. He was graying with intense brown eyes and she was a bit younger, blond and blue-eyed. They were military through and through. And even though Xander and Methos didn’t say it aloud, they both agreed that the pair’s civvie ID’s were fake.
Xander and Methos made their way back to their table.
“That’s eight,” said Methos. “You owe me a beer.”
“Counting you, it’s nine.”
“The magic number was ten,” Methos shot back.
Just then, he felt a buzz, smelled a familiar perfume and a soft body plastered herself to him. “Adam darling, imagine running into you here?”
Xander’s one eye was laughing at him.
“Amanda,” said Methos evenly. “She doesn’t count. She wasn’t here when the bet was made.” He finally asked the question, “How did you know?”
Xander motioned with his beer to the ladies’ restroom. “You can come out now, Anya.”
The woman walked into the bar room with a bounce. “Benjamin, it’s been forever!” She looked at Amanda and smiled. “I’m glad that you have a new orgasm buddy. Is she as creative a wish-er as the last one I met?”
Methos blinked. His brain tried to connect the face with a memory. It took a while to come up with a match: Rome, 1670s. The woman who had helped his wife at the time get revenge on her brother for disinheriting her. By the time Anyanka was done with the brother, he was rotting in a debtor’s prison-literally. It had been the first time Methos had seen a disease rot a body to pieces so fast with the mortal still alive. Why was the woman still alive? She was not an Immortal.
But Anyanka had ignored Methos in favor of Xander. “Honey, can we go home now? I’ve had enough beer to get horny.”