asher_talos | For Ray

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ray vecchio

For Ray

Asher had managed to completely miss the birth of his own kids, but, as luck would have it, he'd caught the last half of this one. The gross half. The half that made sense out of just why the fathers weren't around when babies were being delivered way back when.

He'd gotten to the barn early in the morning to feed Beau and Belle, just the same as he had every other morning before. Except there were two and a half horses when he got there that time, and three whole ones just a while later.

Beau had been fed at some point during the wait, and Asher finally fed Belle once it was all over, but she was more interested in cleaning the foal up than eating. After watching that, Asher didn't have much of an appetite himself, either.

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By now Ray was used to trudging to the stables every morning but that didn't mean he minded it any less. He usually turned up a while after Asher - after most of the horse owners actually - so Ray was a little surprised to find him still in the process of feeding them.

It was impossible to miss the tiny foal being lapped at by its mother. Ray's eyebrows disappeared beneath his woolly hat and his mouth twisted up in an expression of disgust, staring at the miniature version of the animals.

"Somebody's put my horse through a hot wash!" It did look kind of prune-ish and like it had shrunken down. And definitely in need of a hot wash.

Edited 2010-12-15 00:11 (UTC)

Asher turned to look at Ray, an equally disgusted expression quickly taking over his features. "Too bad that somebody couldn't do the same to your hat."

If it wasn't for the fact that the clothing box would simply spit up twelve more in its place, Asher might have considered stealing it at some point. And burning it.

Ray didn't think there was anything particularly wrong with his hat, unless Asher just had something against them in general. Which wouldn't really make sense, considering his comment in the summer.

"Somebody's fickle. Thought you wanted me to wear them, lest you get bedazzled?" The closer Ray got, the more he could see. "Oh, eugh, eughhh, what is she doing?! Why is she licking that?! That is disgusting!"

If women did that right after birth and men saw, humans would have been extinct long ago.

"Yes, but I never said to find a hat that's more painful to look at than the sun bouncing off your head was." If he'd known then that he needed to specify something like that he definitely would have though.

"She's cleaning it. It's what they do. Fur bearing animals in general, not just horses... Seriously, is yours even alive anymore?" Asher asked, leaning back and attempting to catch sight of any movement in his horse's pen.

Ray rolled his eyes up to try and see his hat. It wasn't like it was fluorescent yellow or neon pink or anything.

"It might be," he answered with a non-committal shrug. If he was honest, he'd admit he didn't even know if his horse was male or female but he knew that he would be leaving himself open to a lot more stick from Asher for it. He wasn't sure if its lack of thing was genetically correct or just unfortunate. Who knew what Shawn had done to it before Ray had inherited it?

He nodded over at the foal. "Why isn't it moving?"

"Maybe it's doing it's best impression of your horse," he replied, shifting forward again. "What, do you want it to run the Kentucky Derby right out of the womb?"

Beau's head emerged from the neighboring pen and he nosed around at Asher's shoulder. "Hey, you see that?" he said to him, pointing at the baby horse. "That's it. Keep it in your pants."

Ray pulled a face as if fake laughing, then pressed his lips together in a frown. "The sarcasm's strong in Grandpa Asher today."

Poking his tongue into his cheek, he contemplated whether or not he should say it. Ray was never great at censoring himself though, so he quipped: "Like owner, like horse, huh." Belle was just lucky twins hadn't squeezed outta there.

"No. I've never heard your horse whine in your annoying tone, but I guess that would be difficult for it if it's dying." It wasn't bald and didn't seem at all bipolar, either. Granted, Ray was just the animal's current owner and not her original one, but she definitely didn't come across anything like Shawn. "And don't call me Grandpa unless you want to go back to Cue."

"Hey, that horse isn't mine. I'm just the schmuck that feeds it." And if Ray complained about that less than he used to, it was only a little to do with the fact it gave him an excuse to see Asher every now and then, without seeming like he was staking him out.

"You feeling your age?" he asked, reaching up to give Beau a gloved pat on his neck. Not firing blanks deserved at least one.

"Yeah, that's exactly how it starts," Asher insisted. He probably claimed something similar back when he first got Beau. "You'll get over that, eventually." Hopefully the horse survived long enough to see that day.

"Me or him? Because I don't think it's possible for anyone to actually feel like they're five-hundred-something."

"Divide it by ten and you might be close?" Ray guessed, snapping his hand away when it got too near to Beau's mouth. He did have to admit to himself that both of Asher's horses looked a bit perkier than his did but Ray put that down to his one's hormones.

Or maybe she was moody because she didn't have a name.

"You're wearing a hat that's not meant for anyone over the age of fifteen, let's not get into ages and how we feel about them." Unless Ray had thought ahead and was dressing for an instance of the island fucking with people's ages again there really was no excuse for that hat.

"And, no, I don't feel fifty."

"Ignore the monkey!" Was it Ray's fault that this was the best hat out of a huge bunch the clothes box decided to spew out at him? No. "Forty five?" He guessed again, his tone losing its earlier shrill. It probably wasn't the best way to lead up to asking Asher out but Ray was going with it. "Am I getting closer?"

"Why? You obviously didn't ignore it when the box tried to give it to you." It was hard to believe that was the lesser of all the potential evils. If it was, which he doubted, then no hat at all would have been the way to go. "Close to getting hit...? Yes."

"Fine, you don't like the hat?" Ray reached a hand up and swiped it off his head, shoving it into his coat pocket. "There's no hat. And now my head is cold. I hope you're happy." Beau certainly seemed to be if the noise he made was anything to go by.

"It's moving." Ray whacked the back of his hand against Asher's arm to grab his attention. "It's moving, look."

"Very," he said, though he didn't sound or look any happier than he had when Ray still had the hat on. He did have to wonder, however, what would happen if he told him that he hated his shoes. Or his pants...

His wondering was interrupted when Ray hit him. He glowered at him, before turning his attention back to the foal. "Trying to stand. If you're sticking around, get ready to watch a lot of falling."

As much as Ray hated animals on his clothes or in his car, even he couldn't deny that what he was seeing was almost kind of cute.

He watched in silence for a while, finding himself willing the baby pony on. With its limbs going in every direction, Ray's good vibes didn't seem to be helping much.

He squinted his eyes and leaned towards Asher, pointing at the foal. "Is that a leg or is it a boy baby?" If it was a boy, then man, Ray was jealous.

"Feeling inferior?" Asher asked, as the pony continued to struggle to get to its feet. It didn't help it any having Belle still licking at it, the lightest touch of her snort against it sending it completely off balance and crashing to the ground in a tangle of legs over and over again. "It's her leg."

"No," Ray answered immediately, looking away. That was like asking a fully-grown man if he felt inferior to a worm. He was kinda pleased to hear it was a leg though.

"Aw, jeez, it's a girl?" How could Asher even tell something like that without looking closer? "Bang goes you calling it Ray then."

"You sure?" Because Asher wasn't really convinced. "Even if it was a boy, why the hell would I call it Ray? Why would you want me to call it Ray?" Especially considering the kind of mane the breed of horse had. But if Asher had ever found himself suddenly the owner of a bald uakari then he'd probably consider the name. Not before then, though.

"What's the first thing that springs to mind when you hear Ray?" He began, by way of explanation. After a beat, he offered his answer, thumbs chucked in his own direction before they swept the sides of his head.

Je ne sais quoi. He still had it.

"Italian stallion. If you ever have a boy pony, feel free to use my name. I won't even charge royalties."

Asher blinked. "...Except that's not the first thing that springs to mind when I hear Ray." Actually, this would have been a first, because it had never sprung to his mind as long as he'd known him. At least he'd had the sense not to say something so ridiculous while he was still wearing the hat.

"Probably doesn't even make the list of the first fiftieth things that spring to mind."

The first beautiful moments of the foal climbing back onto its feet and standing for more than a few seconds without falling was lost on Ray. All of his attention was focused on the not-so-proud grandparent.

"What is the first thing that springs to mind when you hear Ray?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise. Stallion was his thing and Asher couldn't see it?

"Bipolar pain in the ass," Asher answered simply. That probably counted as two things, but they went hand in hand. "Which isn't a bad name for a race horse, I guess. They've got weird long names, anyway. But these aren't race horses. Yours is, though."

"Sugarcoat it why don't you," Ray griped, pinching the ends of his gloved fingers one by one to release them. He'd been working on the bipolar thing but clearly Asher hadn't noticed. Even their movie ~~date~~ night hadn't gone too badly but apparently, he still had a lot more to prove. Ray wasn't really sure what Asher's contribution was yet, apart from controlling his fists and keeping his fangs in his mouth.

Too bad his tongue hadn't been reined in too. Speaking of which. "Was a racehorse. And if it's not dead yet, it's probably digesting its own stomach now." He nudged his head in the direction of her pen. "Roll in the hay?" He offered, starting to make his way over.

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