This one came right outta nowhere ... okay so I lied. It came right out of a whiskey bottle *grin*

Rated NC-17 for language. I apologise, but Adriane really talks like that and I have to keep it true to life *innocently*

Methos, Duncan and Amanda all belong to Rysher/Panzer/Davis, this is a fan-fic story that's reaping no monetary gain.

Thanks to the usual guys for beta-reading this, you can direct your comments to the author, or Adriane.

Wine, Women, and Song © 1998

Methos' House, London, England

Adam walked aimlessly up the path towards his house, frowning slightly as faint snatches of music filtered through the background noise of bird song and traffic, distracting him from his thoughts. Going to the front window, he peered inside, the music muted but clearly audible. Adriane was dancing, wildly, around his back garden, dressed in a pair of faded Levi’s and a white cotton vest, occasionally using her sword as a dancing partner. Smiling at her enthusiasm, he stood and watched for a while, shifting only when she came back into the house and the first of the warning signals began. Letting himself in, he slowly withdrew his sword from his long jacket, hanging the garment on the coat stand. Pushing open the door, his blade raised carefully in front of him, he cautiously entered the lounge.

Only to find it empty. Stretching his senses to the limit, he quickly crossed the room to the back doors, peering out into the garden, shaking his head in confusion.

Where was she?

He turned, thinking to try the kitchen and swore in shock. Adriane was so close behind him she was almost touching him. Jumping back, he had to laugh in spite of himself as she solemnly mirrored him, copying his movements exactly. It wasn’t until he mockingly saluted her, touching his brow with his sword that he realised she wasn’t carrying a blade in her hand, but a bottle of vodka.

“You’re drunk.” He told her over the music, secretly amused at her antics, though thankful no other Immortal had arrived.

“I am not!” She replied, her tone implying hurt at the suggestion. “I am happy.” Her serious expression broke and she mischievously poked her tongue out at him, before dropping a curtsey. Adam impulsively returned the courtesy, bowing grandly. Delighted, she curtseyed again, trying to be impressive and promptly tripped over her own feet, falling heavily into a heap on the floor, an incredulous look on her face. Laughing, he rescued the bottle of spirits from her lap, grabbing her hand and pulled her effortlessly to her feet. Her face turned sour as she comically rubbed her sore bottom, swearing at him, succeeding only in making him laugh more. She moved to take the liquor from him as he swigged the vodka neat, managing to spill some down him. Wiping his chin, he held the bottle high above his head, and drunk as she was she jumped, trying to reach it. After several tries, Adam pushed her away, keeping her at bay with his free hand as he took a couple more pulls from the bottle. She swiped at him, desperate to reach him and failing miserably. Her face hardened momentarily, before grinning cheekily to herself. Intrigued, Adam cautiously kept one eye on her as he wondered what scheme she was cooking up now, even as he danced out of her way. His musings were answered as she dropped to a crouch, spinning slightly on one leg. She swung her back leg round with all her might, her calf smashing into his ankles, knocking him to the floor. He hit the ground hard, swearing in multiple languages. Calming down, he felt his lower body lifted and shoved over as Adriane pulled her leg out from under him, climbing stiffly to her feet, sniffing disdainfully. Strutting towards the door, her nose in the air, she ignored his whinging as he discovered the bottle had smashed, dashing the vodka over the floor.

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asked, fascinated.

“Ah ... do you know, I don't know, y'know.” He laughed.

“Where are you going?” When she didn’t reply, he called after her, “the vodka’s wasted.”

“I know!” She yelled back.

“Well, where are you going?” He tried again. She popped her head around the doorway, glaring at him as if it was all his fault.

“I have a bottle of whiskey in a cupboard,” she told him haughtily. “I am going to get it.”

Several bottles of various alcoholic beverages later, Adriane was beginning to feel bored. Dancing, tumbling and teasing the elder Immortal (and receiving a ducking in the garden pond for her trouble) was fun for only a limited time.

Shaking the last drips of a bottle of Schnapps onto her tongue, she wandered off to find something else to drink, desperately thinking of something to do. Adam lay sprawled on the carpet, his limbs spread-eagled, his energy gone - as he said himself, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Rummaging around the cupboard she managed to locate a bottle of tequila. Smiling at a glimmer of an idea, she bustled round the kitchen, cutting up some convenient lemons and, finally, locating the salt pot.

Sitting up, Adam watched her - curious.

“Ever heard of body shots?” She asked him saucily, as she sauntered back into the room, a tray in her hands. “Good.” She murmured quietly as he silently shook his head.

Setting down the tray, she briefly left the room again, returning with one of the kitchen stools. Pulling him to his feet she sat him on the stool and then carefully climbed on to his lap, facing him, wrapping her legs around his waist for support. He stared at her, and laughing she picked up a piece of lemon and the salt pot from the nearby table, slurring her way through the explanation.

“Now, what happens is, you hold this between your teeth.” She stuffed the slice of lemon into his mouth, effectively gagging him as his hands moved up to grab her hips when the movement knocked her off balance and she almost fell from his lap. Giggling, she tried to continue, becoming more incoherent at each passing moment. “And I lick your neck.” Bending, she swept her tongue lightly along the sensitive skin, sending shivers down his spine. “Then I sprinkle some salt!” She finished triumphantly, shaking the salt pot at his chin and picking up a large shot of tequila. “And after three; salt, tequila, lemon!” She laughed. “One . . . two - “

Abruptly the feel of Immortals penetrated their individual alcoholic fogs. Standing quickly, Adam looked around for his sword, spotting it in a corner with Adriane’s. Moving towards it, he tripped over the young woman as she lay, swearing, where he had dumped her.

“Three.” She muttered to herself. Crawling towards her own blade, the two reached their weapons together. Grabbing a sword, Adriane frowned at the weight as she tried to wield it, two-handed. Peering at it drunkenly, she realised she’d taken Adam’s.

“Shit. Adam!” He stalked across the room, weaving, and stumbled to a halt at the sound of his name.

“What?” He shouted. She raised the blade, shakily.

“Your sword?” Squinting at the one he held in his hand, he stomped back to her.

“Fuck! Shitpoobumbollocks!!”

Amanda and Duncan entered the room almost unnoticed, to find the eldest Immortal arguing with the younger Immortal, a piece of lemon still clenched between his teeth and a sword being waved dangerously. Duncan sighed in resignation as he glanced at the woman at his side, shaking his head in disbelief. Clearing his throat he called their names, battling to make himself heard.

“Hey!” He roared at the same time Amanda switched the music off, his voice overly loud in the sudden silence. Methos - Adam, he corrected himself, glared at him, spitting the lemon to one side, and rubbing at his neck. Adriane dropped the blade she was holding - was that Methos’? - managing to slice her leg open in the process. Screaming, she hopped around on one leg, her hands clamped over the wound until she fell into a wall and collapsed on the floor, swearing - adding a few words Adam had spouted hours earlier.

Duncan could do nothing but stare in amazement, they were drunk. He had seen Methos drunk before, but . . .

“Why don’t we leave them to it, go have some fun of our own?” Amanda suggested.

“What did you have in mind?” Duncan asked innocently, contrary to the grin on his face.

“Why don't you come upstairs and find out.” She told him, wickedly. She laughed as he bustled her out of the room, but changed her mind halfway through the door.

“Excuse me.” She told the two oblivious Immortals as they continued to argue, and picked up the tray of tequila and lemons. As she made her way upstairs she called out impishly, “How do you feel about body shots?”

“What?” He shouted back.

“You’ll see.” She told him, smiling.

Groaning, Methos woke, sincerely wishing he hadn’t, struggling to remember exactly what he’d drunk. Vodka, Whiskey, Scotch, Jack Daniel’s, Schnapps, Tequila? His tongue felt like sandpaper, and tasted as though someone had run over and dumped in his mo - He stopped as small sound echoed through the silent room. Sitting up, he discovered that he was still in the living room, having apparently fallen asleep in his clothes on the floor. Peering around in the moonlight he finally found Adriane. She was curled up on the armchair, snuggled around a pillow, managing to fit her entire body on the cushion, and she was sobbing.

Dragging himself over to her, he gently patted her on the shoulder.

“S’okay, Adriane,” he mumbled. “Bad dream?” He frowned as she shook her head. “Um, you feel ill?” Again, she shook her head. “Scared of the dark?” He tried.

“No.” She sniffed. “I banged my funny bone.” And began to cry as she rubbed her elbow.

Unable to help himself, Adam laughed, becoming hysterical as Adriane joined in with a sort of hiccup - sob.

“Nnaaaarrrgghhh.” Adriane said as she surfaced from an alcoholic induced coma. Blinking frantically in the brilliant sunlight, she raised her head from her pillow only to find that she’d spent the night with her head cushioned on Adam’s thigh. Beneath them all the cushions from the couches had been thrown on the floor to make a crude mattress, and she vaguely remembered a brief reconnaissance mission upstairs during the small hours of the morning for a duvet. Or three, she amended as she struggled to her feet and out from under the mounds of covers piled around them.

“Please kill me.” Adam’s voice was muffled as he burrowed further under the pillows. Adriane pushed her hair back off her face as she struggled to stand.

“It wouldn’t work, you’d only wake up with a hangover and a big stab wound to heal.” She grinned ruefully. “Trust me, I tried it once.” She muttered as she headed for the kitchen, belatedly wondering what had happened to MacLeod and Amanda. “If I ever touch a drop of alcohol again, disembowl me and save me the trouble.”

Turning, the only reply she got was snores.

The End ..