Richard couldn't help feeling nervous as he stepped outside later that evening. Allen had said he was sure Hank would be at the chickens as usual, but what if he wasn't? What did that mean for them? Obviously, that means it's over, right? That thought followed him as he crossed to the garage and filled the feed bucket. He hesitated as he looked out at the deserted yard. Connor wasn't there, and that meant Hank wasn't either. His chest dropped at the thought, and a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he was out on his rounds. At this time of night? It was early evening, and Hank was always back by now.
Lifting the bucket, Richard trudged across to the pen and stepped inside. Nines was finally back where he belonged and skittered up to meet him immediately. Something had changed since his injury, perhaps because Richard had pandered to his needy nature when he was hurt. He was more affectionate than before, willing and eager to be held and always running around his feet in greeting as he worked. Richard huffed and crouched to stroke Nines' comb and feathers as the hens clucked and pecked the earth expectantly.
"At least you're not mad at me." Which made a nice change. Nines almost seemed to coo in agreement as Richard pushed to his feet and scattered a few handfuls of seed across the ground. The hens fell upon it immediately, happily pecking as they strutted around. The rest of the feed was tipped into the long trough, and Richard checked their water. It was still pretty full. No need to refill it. The bucket swung loosely at his side as he meandered back to the gate. Chancing a glance at Hank's house, he noticed the downstairs windows were lit with a warm glow. That meant Hank was probably in there somewhere. It was too late for him to be anywhere else on the farm. But it is unusual that Connor's not out here…
Licking his lips, Richard looked around at his chickens. It wouldn't hurt to stay out a little longer. Just in case. Allen seemed pretty sure that Hank wasn't angry enough to call it off. Maybe he really was delayed in the fields somewhere. Richard's stomach churned with a heavy feeling. Then why are the lights on? If the lights were on, Hank was home. And if Hank was home, that meant he was ignoring him. Or he doesn't know I'm here. Hank always knew when he was there. He'd turned up every day for weeks! That he wasn't coming out now suggested he simply didn't want to. A knot formed in Richard's throat as he swallowed. It's not a big deal…It's not a big deal…This isn't the first time.
Despite thinking that, he could feel his bottom lip quiver and his breath stutter. His eyelids fluttered as he blinked, refusing to give in to the tears filling his eyes. This is fucking ridiculous! Pull yourself together! You're forty-three years old! Looking down, he found Nines hopping around his feet again, almost as if he could sense his plummeting mood. Richard crouched again, sniffling quietly as he gathered up the black rooster that hopped on his lap. Nines cooed softly, head bobbing as he blinked up at Richard and accepted the gentle strokes along his back. Richard couldn't help it as his shoulders started shaking and dry sobs choked his throat. Now he was crying because he felt stupid for crying, and that made it even worse.
Stupid-stupid! This is so stupid! Despite that, he was still crying. Maybe he was just stressed. Having a fight on his first day back wasn't ideal, and the test run hadn't gone as well as he'd have liked. Maybe Allen was right and he should have ridden Treacle first, or May-Bell. They wouldn't have thrown him. Mellow didn't throw me either! She just took the turnings too fast! He'd have to try again. Maybe tomorrow. He could take it slow and get her used to the pull on the reins and then increase the speed gradually. It wasn't as fast as learning at speed, but he didn't have much choice. She wasn't picking it up as quickly as the other mares. If she didn't learn quickly, she wouldn't be ready for next season. She's still young though. She has time.
With another sniffle, Richard wiped his eyes and stroked Nines' black feathers, enjoying the gentle coos as he nudged his fingers. He was just thinking about going back inside when a distant bark reached his ears. Turning his head, he squinted through the increasing dimness to see a four-legged silhouette jump the fence at the end of Hank's yard. Excited barks continued as the dog, which he quickly realised was Connor, careened across the yard towards him. Richard stayed where he was, holding Nines a little closer as the rooster fluffed his wings in agitation. Connor panted happily as he planted his front paws on top of the fence and wagged his tail in greeting. Something like relief welled in Richard's chest. If Connor had only just got back, that meant Hank wasn't far behind. Maybe he hadn't been ignored. Maybe he really had been out in the fields all this time.
Hank soon appeared and climbed into his yard. It seemed he knew Connor was at the coop as he started heading over. He was carrying a heavy-looking canvas bag over his shoulder, and from the tinkling sound of metal, Richard assumed there were tools inside. His hair was unruly, the knees of his overalls were dirty, and his shirt sleeves had been rolled up despite the evening chill. If Richard had to guess, he'd say he'd been fixing another fence. He looked a little tired, but he managed a smile as he walked over, which put Richard on the back foot.
"Richie, hey! Sorry I'm late I was…What happened? Is Nines alright?" There was a rattling thud as Hank all but dropped the bag and hopped over the fence. Richard blinked, lips stammering as Hank stepped inside and crouched beside him. He lifted Nines without a word and started checking him over. "What's wrong? Is he hurt?" He didn't look hurt. In fact, he was indignant at being picked up and manhandled. With a bemused caw and a flap of his wings, Hank released him and watched him skitter off across the pen.
"N-No, Nines is fine." Hank frowned a little at that.
"Then what's wrong? Did something happen?" Richard shook his head and stood, quickly followed by Hank. "Bullshit! Something's wrong, you've been crying!" Richard scoffed at the notion and instinctively swiped his eyes. Unfortunately, that move was a dead giveaway. Hank folded his arms and blocked the door, raising an expectant eyebrow. Richard huffed and folded his arms, brows furrowing in defiance as he drew himself up to his full height. Hank's lips twitched at the sight, which made Richard's cheeks burn even hotter. His full height was still a foot shorter than Hank.
"I have not been crying!" Hank smirked at the lie.
"But there is something wrong." Richard clicked his tongue and turned his head. His cheeks were probably bright pink by now. He was a terrible liar. "Come on, you can tell me…Did you fight with Allen after I left?" Richard shook his head. Irritated as Allen had been, they hadn't really fought. They didn't need to when Richard already knew and acknowledged he was in the wrong. Besides, he was already upset about Hank. Arguing more would just make him even more upset. "Then what?" Hank's voice was softer this time, soft blue eyes imploring him for an explanation. Richard sighed and licked his lips, swallowing his nerves.
"I-I thought you weren't coming." His chestnut eyes remained stubbornly distant, glaring off to the side. He seemed a lot smaller with that admission, hunching his shoulders and clenching his jaw so he didn't confess anything else. He didn't need to. Hank could tell there was more to it. It wasn't just that he hadn't appeared at the chicken coop as usual.
"You thought I was angry?"
"You're not?" Richard didn't seem to believe him as he glance up. Sighing, Hank pulled him against his chest and wrapped his arms around him.
"Idiot." Richard's cheeks burned at the admonishment, but he didn't pull away. He wasn't sure he was ready to look at Hank directly yet as he leaned his head on his chest and enjoyed the feeling of rough fingers running through his hair. Whiskers teased his brow as Hank kissed his temple and rubbed his back. It was comforting. "You really thought I was angry enough to ignore you?" Richard pouted. That's exactly what he'd thought.
"Well, you stormed off earlier, so I thought…" It seemed stupid to say it at this point.
"You thought we were over?" Richard nodded and felt Hank's arms tighten as he sighed. That was a level of insecure Hank had never anticipated. He would have said it was laughable if he didn't know Richard had been crying over it. "Richie, we had a fight. That's all!" That's all? How could he say that? That's what ended relationships all the time! "Couples fight! Was I mad earlier? Sure. You could have been seriously hurt on that fence, but I wouldn't leave you because of one little tiff!" For some reason, the reassurance made him feel worse. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Richard leaned closer, hiding his face in Hank's chest as he clung to his shirt. He wasn't sure if he was shocked or relieved.
"You called me an idiot." Hank snorted softly, still ruffling Richard's hair as he held him.
"You are a fucking idiot." He laughed harder as a small fist knocked his shoulder. Richard sniffled quietly, feeling bad as he glanced up.
"I-I didn't mean what I said…" Hank raised an eyebrow. He didn't recall Richard saying anything in particular. "When I called you a sheep farmer. I didn't mean it." Is that all? Hank chuckled softly as he returned to rubbing Richard's back. What he'd said wasn't entirely inaccurate. He did have sheep. A lot of sheep. Wool and lamb meat were his big money makers. Having said that, he couldn't help being curious about what Richard actually thought.
"What am I then?"
"You're a livestock farmer…You have more than just sheep." That was almost cute. If Richard was apologising, it was only fair he did the same.
"I'm sorry too. I didn't mean it when I called you an idiot." He could feel Richard cringing against his chest. Apparently, he wasn't good at accepting apologies. "But you understand why I was mad, right?" Richard remained subdued and nodded, still avoiding his eyes by hiding in his chest. "You've only just healed, and I didn't want to see you get hurt again." Richard understood that. Allen was the same. However, he was an experienced rider, and he knew what he was doing. Training horses like Mellow was part of his job, whether they liked it or not. Having said that, they have a point about it being my first day back after an injury.
"I can't promise I'll always be safe…Training horses is my job and accidents happen, but I will be careful." Hank nodded his understanding. He knew Richard was right. He'd always known riding could be dangerous, but seeing how close he'd come to another accident almost made his heart stop. It was a nasty reminder of the day he'd gone to hospital. Hank had waited by the chicken coop for over an hour, wondering where he was and worrying because he didn't turn up. Eventually, he'd just fed the chickens himself and gone to find him; only the stables were deserted and Allen's car was gone. It was weird Richard didn't tell him, but if he was with Allen, then he'd thought he was probably alright. Still, as time wore on, he'd worried, and since he didn't have his phone number, he couldn't call. Looking back, it was crazy that they hadn't exchanged numbers earlier. He didn't know how he'd overlooked it.
"I appreciate that…And I'll try not to get on your case too much." Richard managed a small snicker at that.
"No, you won't." Hank's lips twitched at the call out.
"You're right, I won't. I won't leave you either." Drawing back, Hank cupped Richard's cheeks and brushed his thumbs along the bottom of his eyes, wiping away the few lingering tears that sat there. The rims were all red and puffy, and his lashes were sticking together with salt. Leaning in, Hank brushed a few gentle kisses along his lips, enjoying the way Richard's eyes fluttered shut with each small press. "How about we get cleaned up and go to the pub for dinner, hm?" Richard hadn't even thought about food. His stomach had been tied in worried knots since lunchtime.
"Sure, that sounds nice." Rose hadn't made a bad meal yet, so he knew whatever they ate would be delicious. His stomach almost rumbled at the thought as Hank left him with a soft parting kiss. Stepping out, Richard carefully set a hand on Connor's head and scratched his floppy ears in greeting before they parted ways. Hank to shower and change clothes, and Richard to wash his face.
"You can come over as soon as you're ready. You know Sumo and Connor won't jump you." Richard wasn't so sure about that, but having spent a few days in their company, he was beginning to think they weren't so bad.
