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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"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.

"Honesty is the best policy," he insisted. And as much as people claimed that, it was surprising how often most actually preferred anything but the truth.

"Potential death by starvation does it for you?" Asher asked as he followed, not because he was particularly interested in rolling in anything, but he was curious to find out how far gone his horse was. "Those Feed the Children infomercials must be a religious experience for you."

"Depends on the company," Ray replied in a non-committal tone, heading into the pen with a long suffering sigh.

"See. Still alive." He approached her, stood a couple of feet away and leaned in quickly to pat her somewhere in the middle. "Good horsey. Still on your feet, I see." When he glanced down, he saw she was on three of them at least; she was holding up a front one and it was starting to look nasty. "Did I speak too soon?"

"Good horsey?" Asher repeated, brow arched. On second thought, he wasn't sure how either of them was still living. Clearly, Ray had just gotten lucky that he hadn't drowned in a trough or something that week he spent as a stable boy. The man didn't belong anywhere near a barn.

"No... She's both alive and standing, so you're not wrong. How long she'll stay that was is the real question."

"What the hell's wrong with her?" Ray demanded, immediately on the defensive. He hadn't done anything to her and he didn't want Asher thinking he was a secret horse injurer.

"What is that?" Some weird looking gunk, that was what it was. Reaching down, Ray swiped a thumb over the hoof and brought a sample back. "Is it contagious? Is it..." He gave it a sniff and the horse lowered her foot to the ground, bobbing her head and wandering away. Just in time to avoid the gagging. "...shit!"

That just happened. That had actually just happened. Asher hadn't expected Ray to touch it, didn't think it would have been necessary to warn him. Apparently, he was very, very wrong.

Pushing away from the stall, Asher was busy being more disgusted than he'd been in a long while, and laughing at Ray's misfortune. And stupidity. "I can not believe you just did that."

Oh, but he had.

"I thought she was dying!" Ray screeched, doubled-over and gagging between words. He'd thought it was gangrene. He flapped his hand manically to try to get the offending excrement off it. "I thought her foot was gonna fall off! Oh my God, get this stuff off me."

Stumbling over to some stray hay, he grabbed a handful and wiped his finger on it, starting to feel faint and light-headed. "Stop laughing at me." This was what he got for caring about the damn animal?

"Congratulations, you saved her foot." Too bad it was never actually at risk of falling off in the first place. "I'm sure she appreciates it." That, or she thought he was a complete idiot. Who could really tell?

"I'm gonna need you to stay at least five feet away from me at all times."

It was at times like these that Ray wondered what he even saw in Asher. Storming out of the pen, he strode into the snow and dropped down, burying his hands in it and scrubbing until they turned red. It wasn't disinfectant but it would do for now.

"That's fine," he replied, rising to his feet and lobbing the snowball he'd made straight at Asher. "I can throw that far."

"Hey!" Asher turned just in time to let the back of his shoulder absorb the snowball's impact. "Why the fuck are you taking it out on me? I didn't tell you to touch it. Why not throw one at the damn horse? She's the one who stepped in it."

"You're the one that laughed," Ray reminded him, bending down to scoop up another handful. Patting it into a rough sphere shape, he took a bit longer lining up his shot, just to maximise his chances of getting another hit. He'd never really seen the appeal of snowball fights but now he figured he'd just never had the right target before, because landing one on Asher was beyond satisfying.

"How about lobbing one at yourself for doing something that idiotic?" Asher suggested poised to dodge any more snowballs that Ray decided to send his way. "Instead of playing in the snow what you should be doing is bleaching your hand and scrubbing the first few layers of skin off." Telling him to chop the hand off completely would have been a bit dramatic, he thought, but it definitely did cross Asher's mind.

"You can do the honors," Ray offered, holding out snowballs to Asher in each hand as he walked up to him. He wasn't sure how obvious his lie was but by the time he was a foot away, the snowballs were hurtling straight at the other man, point blank range.

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When Asher was done saving his face, Ray found himself a lot closer still. Witnessing the birth of a baby horse might have disgusted him at first but he couldn't deny there was something almost nice about it.

A residual smile from his snowball attack was still on his face when he shrugged a shoulder. "I can save the moment," Ray told him, leaning in without thinking. When he realized what he was about to do, he rocked back an inch, and then another, and another. "We should check on the uh, puledro."

"I hope that means disinfectant." Because any moments Ray was planning on would be effectually ruined, no matter what, if thorough decontamination wasn't on the agenda.

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