There Can Be Only One...Yam, by Ann H

There Can Be Only One...Yam

by Ann H

Author's Notes: Yam jokes are allowed.

Rated: T slash

Disclaimer: No-one belongs to me. No-one. Make money off of this? You must be kidding! You should be paying me to keep this off the net.

Blame: All to Emily...she issued the challenge.

Pairing: Cory Raines, Highlander

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're not gonna eat *that*, are you?"

Duncan paused, fork hovering just before parted lips.

Cory Raines was distracted from the dull orange mass on the fork by those lips...especially the lower lip. Full...tempting...a slight sheen of moisture there waiting for him to kiss...

"Cory."

"Corwin?"

"Raines!"

Cory snapped to attention. Duncan favored him with an amused smirk.

"What's wrong with eating these yams? You're the one that cooked them, after all. Why invite me over for dinner if you don't want me to eat? Besides, yams are a good source of vitamins and fiber. Even an immortal should follow a sensible diet."

The man's got a body made for sin, but the charisma of a wet noodle. Or even a yam.

With a quick shake of his head, Cory abandoned this train of thought, and focused on Duncan.

"Mackey-boy, The Daily Star recently ran a story about a boy turned into a yam by a witchdoctor. Nigerian police are trying to find a man who gave a schoolboy candy. Three of his classmates saw the boy transformed into a yam."

Duncan MacLeod immediately put on the look. The insufferably smug, superior air that announced his usual disdain for anything remotely interesting or fun.

"That's just another example of tabloid trash, and you know it! Boys turned into yams, indeed." With that statement, Duncan resumed his dinner, defiantly consuming the entire portion of yams.

"The authorities took a large yam into custody."

"Yes, Raines, and they probably ate it."

Duncan's eyes narrowed. Cory was now wearing the grin. The one that said 'I know something you don't...and you're not gonna like it.'

"Actually, Duncan, they didn't. When I first read the story, I was intrigued. Did a little research, made an...acquisition."

A man as self-contained as Duncan MacLeod doesn't normally snort, but this time he made an exception. Just then, the doorbell chimed.

"Is that the stranger who's going to offer me candy, Raines?"

Cory stopped halfway to the door, and turned back to Duncan. The look on his face was half amazement, half smirk.

"Duncan MacLeod! Did you just make a joke? I'm shocked...though not impressed." With that, he quickly made his way to the door.

Duncan dismissed the entire yam story to instead concentrate on Cory's latest visitor.

"Methos! What are you doing here?"

The dark haired man with the intense eyes gave him a quick grin. "Actually, I'm checking on an experiment of sorts...and settling a bet."

MacLeod sat, puzzled, as Methos and Cory stared at him. "What?" Duncan growled, in his best threatening tone.

Methos shrugged, and looked at Cory. "How long since he finished the yams?"

"Oh, only about ten minutes. The doctor said it could take up to half an hour."

Duncan exploded. "What the hell are you talking about? What do the bloody yams have to do with anything?"

Cory laughed in delight. Duncan-baiting was his favorite sport. "Let's take this out on the deck. I think Mackey-boy needs a little air. Besides, the hot tub should be ready now."

Methos and Cory each grabbed an arm, and Duncan found himself reclining on a chair overlooking the lush foliage in Cory's backyard. Before he could marshal all his righteous indignation, Methos filled the silence.

"See, Duncan, I ran into Cory at Christie's auction house three weeks ago..."

"Yeah, he was there to buy a very fine Willem de Kooning painting, and I was there to steal it."

"Cory!" "Sorry."

"Anyway, he told me this intriguing tale about a schoolboy turned into a yam..."

"And since he was outbid on the painting, we decided to place a little...well, a large bet."

"Cory!"

"Sorry."

"According to the research Raines did, this witchdoctor was indeed powerful. The man had turned the boy into a yam, but the spell wore off after two hours, and the boy was restored. Not that I believe this, you understand. Cory claims he charmed the witchdoctor into supplying him with a spell-laden yam, which would work much like the candy that schoolboy had. Thus, our bet."

Duncan was furious. How did he let himself get talked into having dinner at Raines' cabin? And to listen to such utter nonsense? He was rising from the chair when the dizziness hit him. Before Methos or Cory could reach him, he fell by the hot tub, a foot away from the edge of the deck.

Both Methos and Cory blinked. Duncan MacLeod was nowhere to be found. In his place was a yam.

"Yes! Yes! I win!"

Methos cast a cool glaze at the celebrating Cory Raines.

"He will be okay, yes?"

"Of course, Methos...two, maybe three hours tops. He's not a little schoolboy, you know..."

"He's can't hear or see us, can he?"

"Not according to the witchdoctor. And, last I checked, yams don't have ears or eyes."

Methos finally unleashed the wicked grin he'd been holding back. "So...can I write you a check for the $750,000 I owe you?"

Cory matched him grin for grin, and started removing his shirt. "Nah, not to me...just send the money as a donation to the famine relief projects in Africa. They can't live on yams alone, old man."

"Old man? I'll show you who's an old man!" Methos growled.

Both men were now removing garments furiously, uncaring of where their clothing landed. One of Methos' shoes landed with a clunk upon the forgotten yam, which silently rolled off the deck. The splash of the two boisterous men entering the hot tub covered the soft thud the yam made landing in the deep foliage.

Cory took in a deep, relaxing breath, enjoying the hot water and the hotter Methos. He pulled the immortal closer, claiming Methos in a passionate kiss that was, in turn, demanding and forceful, then sensual and soft. Only when breath became an absolute necessity did they part.

"I love a good game, old man...especially when I win. Let's forget the money, and move on to the other prize."

"I'm in your hot tub, naked, about to indulge in passionate lovemaking with the immortal version of Don Juan, and you don't think I won? You have a lot to learn, Cory, my boy."

"So...come here and teach me."

They never heard the raccoon that dragged the forgotten yam out of the yard.

The End...thank goodness!

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Feedback to Ann H