It had been a good day. Gavin had been good as gold for the whole visit, which had lasted two hours because Richard couldn't bring himself to separate them. He wasn't really needed at the stables while Allen cleaned, and it didn't seem fair to keep Nines cooped up in his crate all day. Because of his injuries, he didn't feel safe leaving him alone with Gavin, so either he or Hank had to be there to watch them. Hank had his regular duties to attend to, so after making sure Richard was alright staying behind for a while, he left him sitting in the pen.

For the first thirty minutes or so, the roosters didn't move from their previous position, huddled together and apparently sleeping. After that, they took to wandering the pen, idly pecking the dirt. The hens in the next pen clucked and walked along the fence, apparently checking on Nines themselves since they hadn't seen him for a while. They certainly seemed to remember him as they flapped and clucked, but none of them moved to attack the mesh. It almost seemed like they were having a conversation as they cooed and bobbed their heads. Gavin seemed thoroughly entranced by Nines' sling, prodding and plucking the blue material with his beak. Richard watched carefully, but he didn't pluck at Nines' feathers, and the exploratory tugs didn't damage the sling either.

After walking around for a while, they settled in another heap by the fence, Gavin once again offering himself as a pillow for Nines' head. Nines seemed more relaxed with Gavin than he had sitting alone in his crate, and Gavin was acting the way Richard thought chickens should. He was worried and attentive, doing his best to offer comfort and support where he could. He gently groomed Nines' black feathers, running his beak through them and removing any loose ones to allow for better healing. Although he must have found the wounds on his chest, he didn't peck and make them bleed. He was careful as he worked, cooing and nuzzling the whole time as Nines blinked and nodded off.

It wasn't until Hank returned and told him he'd been sitting there for over two hours that Richard finally lifted Nines and returned him to his crate, receiving a chorus of angry squawks in return. Gavin, very vocal in his objections, was wrangled by Hank and carried off with a disgruntled fluff of his feathers. Nines cooed mournfully, still feeling sorry for himself, but didn't fight as Richard lowered him into the crate and shut the lid. It was only fair that the two injured hens got their fair share of free time, and he didn't need to watch them since they were already housed together. With that in mind, he left the two hens pecking the dirt and returned to his own yard.

"Call if you need anything, alright?" Hank gruffed as he helped him over the fence. Responding with a small nod, Richard hesitated to leave. They didn't have any set plans to see each other later, but they probably would in the evening. Hank always seemed to know when he was around the coop.

"Sure...I'll see you later then." That seemed to be it as Richard turned away, only Hank's voice called him back.

"Hey! Come here." Richard's insides fluttered at the low purr, feeling jittery as he turned back to face Hank. Hank remained where he was, leaning on the fence with his foot resting on the lower rung. Licking his lips, Richard returned to the fence and looked up as Hank leaned over to taste his lips. It was a chaste press, a brief kiss to see him on his way and leave him wanting. Hank's lips softened into an affectionate smile as they parted, enjoying the dopey look on Richard's face as he stepped back and hurried off to the stables.

"So...You and Hank." Allen didn't even give him time to catch his breath as he walked in, leaning on his pitchfork and taking a break from scooping up the old straw. He'd barely started, having had to feed and release all the horses before he could begin. Richard's extended absence hadn't passed him by. It never usually took him this long to see to the chickens, so Allen could only guess he'd been with Hank. A smirk curled his handsome lips as he looked Richard up and down to find him far less ruffled than he'd expected.

"Yeah-um...I guess so."

"What do you mean, guess?" Richard sighed, folding his arms and looking thoughtful. There was definitely something going on with Hank. He just didn't know what it was. Were they dating? Were they fucking? Was there an expectation of more on either side? "What have you done so far? I mean, you're obviously sleeping together!" That much was certainly true, figuratively and literally. It wasn't every night, but it was becoming more regular. Maybe too regular to be thought of as just fucking.

"Well, there was the time I told you about when we fucked in the field, and a few times since the storm...He stayed over after the fox attack while Nines was at the vet, and he introduced me to his dog."

"He what?" Allen said it like he'd just confessed to a crime, and he was looking at him like he'd grown two heads. "He got you to go near his dog? The jumpy one?" He couldn't imagine it. Richard would have run a mile at being anywhere near that cute little collie. It seemed to dawn on Richard what he meant as he made a soft oh sound and shook his head.

"No, Sumo. The old one." Allen seemed a lot more interested in that as he broke out into a grin.

"He has three dogs?" Don't remind me...It was one of the things that would likely cause friction if this ever became a genuine relationship. Having Hank over was fine, but he wouldn't always be able to stay. It wouldn't be fair to the dogs, and Richard wouldn't want them to be lonely or neglected. The two that lived in the house seemed pretty friendly. "You never let me introduce you to my dogs." There was almost a pout in his tone. Richard balked at the very thought.

"Those dogs are huge!" They were a lot like Sixty in size, only less fluffy and a grubby brown colour. They were also terrifying. Huge hounds that barked as soon as they saw you, and growled as you got near. They were excellent guard dogs for the stables, but not the friendliest of beasts. He assumed that was why they were always locked away when he came over. It wouldn't be good advertising to have one of their patron's jockeys injured.

"They're puppies!" Richard clicked his tongue at the notion. They were great, gnashing beasts! "What's Sumo like?" Allen didn't think Richard would be well versed in breeds, but he could at least tell him about the encounter.

"He's pretty big, but old. I think that's why he chose that one...He's one of those mountain rescue dogs. The one with the barrel...A Beethoven dog!" Allen snorted. That was about as perfect a description as you could give without naming the breed directly.

"A Saint Bernard."

"Right...H-he wasn't so bad..." It was a grudging admission, at best. He could still remember how terrifying it had been, watching Hank inching his way closer and closer. His heart had just about leapt out of his chest when Sumo pressed his flank up against his leg. He was so big he'd almost knocked him over. Hank's gentle praise still rumbled in his ears, and the feeling of his rough hand ghosted over his own, guiding his strokes. The softness of Sumo's fur also lingered. He'd expected it to be a little rougher.

"How close did you get?" Allen had never known Richard to get within two feet of a dog without running a mile.

"Right here. I stroked him." There was more than a little pride in his voice as he patted his thigh. His chest had even puffed a little, and Allen let out a low whistle in response. That was a big deal for Richard. Hank must have the patience of a saint to work his way up to that in a single day. He couldn't help wondering how many times Richard had backed off before allowing the dog that close. That certainly made Hank a keeper in his book. The only reason he could think of for Hank to go to such efforts was to get Richard used to the dogs so he could invite him over.

"Anything else you've done together?"

"Oh, we went to dinner again last night, and you already know he came over afterwards." Allen nodded along thoughtfully. Two dinners wasn't bad. That and introducing Richard to his dog suggested there was a certain amount of genuine interest there on Hank's part. He'd joined them for breakfast that morning too, and Allen had to admit, he didn't dislike the man. He was respectful and good natured, kind and helpful with a good sense of humour. A good match for Richard. His friend had never had much luck with romance. He hadn't had much interest in it, either. Has that changed in this case? It certainly seemed like he was smitten. He'd have to be to let a dog get that close.

"Are you interested in more than that?" Richard shrugged evasively. It wasn't something he'd given much thought. The idea of a long-term relationship never occurred to him because it just never happened. His encounters had always been fleeting or fuelled by fame and fortune. His fame and fortune. Allen had seen off more than one of his past partners after he'd figured out their motives. "How do you feel during these meetups? Do you like spending time with him?" A light fluttering sensation filled his stomach at the question.

"Yeah." He wouldn't agree to it if he didn't want to.

"How about spending more time with him?" Richard nodded again. He enjoyed spending time with Hank enough that he wanted to spend more time. "Time without sex?"

"Of course!" He wasn't a sex fiend. Sleeping and talking with Hank were just as stimulating as their more salacious activities. A lot of their encounters had been sexual so far, but wasn't that just part of dating? Connections started with a lot of sex, and if there was something more underneath, the relationship continued after the sexual fascination passed. He wasn't entirely sure where he and Hank were in that cycle. Allen seemed pleased with his answer, if a little surprised.

"I think this is the first time you've given a definitive answer." Richard blinked in surprise. It was? He'd never thought about it before, but Allen was probably right. He'd enjoyed sex with people before, sometimes more than once, but it never led to anything beyond that. What was so special about Hank? To most, he'd just be considered a grizzled old farmer with a generous gut. He had a gruff nature, but there was kindness underneath. His advice and help around the stables had been invaluable. He was a good listener and genuinely interested in him. Genuine interest was hard to come by for those as dull as Richard. Are we just settling for each other then? Did Hank have trouble finding people out here? That was a definite possibility, but did that matter?

"How do I know if he likes me?" He liked his body, that much was obvious. They'd barely kept their hands off each other since these encounters started!

"Oh, he likes you. I watched him staring at you for most of breakfast!" But did that mean he liked him or that he liked how he looked? "Whatever this thing is, I think you should keep it going. It's about time you had someone around to take care of you." Take care of me? He made it sound like he was incapable! It wasn't like he hadn't lived alone looking after himself all this time! Sure, Allen helped with the stables and checked on him, made sure he ate, put him to bed when he was sick and-Am I incapable? Now that he thought about it, Allen had been looking out for him for years.

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting sick of me?" He'd meant it to sound light-hearted, but something of his worry must have seeped into his tone as Allen shouldered his pitchfork and walked over to ruffle his hair.

"Never. You're like the little brother I never had." Richard huffed and batted his hand away, doing his best to tidy the mess he'd left behind.

"There's only seven months between us!" The reminder didn't affect Allen at all as he chuckled and returned to the stall he was mucking out. Richard joined him as usual, still mulling over what he should do about Hank. Should he ask him his intentions or let things develop naturally? Leaving it was certainly easier. The worst that could happen was Hank losing interest. His stomach dropped at the thought, a new and disheartening sensation. If it happens, it happens. There was no use getting upset over it.

While Allen handled completely replacing the straw bedding, Richard cleaned the water bowls, refilled the hayracks, and scrubbed the floors and walls clean once the old straw had been removed. It took them so long that the sun was dimming by the time they reached the last stall and Hank stopped by to drop off the newly repaired ladder for the barn. Since they were busy, he offered to take a look up there by himself and see if there were any gaps in the roof that needed filling. Richard offered his tired thanks and joined Allen in cleaning up the last stall. By then, it was time to bring the horses in and settle them down for the night.

"How is she?" Richard asked as he leaned through the open doorway of Bessie's temporary stall and watched Allen examining her. His grey eyes were intense and focused as he felt her flank and belly, clicking and hushing as she snorted and shuffled her hooves in agitation. Horses didn't like an audience during birthing. It was normal to leave them overnight and find the foal the next day. Richard was right when he said her teats were waxing. She'd definitely be giving birth soon, possibly that very night.

"She's certainly ready...I'll make a few trips through the night to check in, but it could be tonight or tomorrow." He didn't think it would take any longer than that, especially not with the way she was stepping from hoof to hoof and ducking her head. Allen stepped out so he didn't stress her further, and Richard gifted her an extra helping off feed. Bessie wasn't about to turn down extra food, and greedily munched away as the bag was slipped over her nose. "I can finish up here. Why don't you go over and see to the chickens? I'll meet you back at the house for dinner." Richard wasn't going to argue with that. Heading out of the stables, he wandered across to the barn, where he could see a light shining in the loft.

"Hank?" he called as he put his head through the door. There was a thud that made him think he'd probably dropped the torch in surprise. "How's it looking up there?" Hank hurriedly appeared, looking a little flustered as he looked over the edge of the platform.

"No-uh, no holes that I can see...Got a lot of old stuff up here though. I'll go through it and see what's worth keeping and what's not." That seemed reasonable. Curious, Richard approached the bottom of the newly repaired ladder as Hank turned off the flashlight and got ready to climb down. He didn't need to worry about the ladder falling. It had been fastened at the top to keep it in place.

"What sort of stuff?"

"Oh, just some old equipment storage. Don't worry about it. Anything worth keeping, I'll clean up and show you later. It's pretty cluttered up there right now," Hank said as he climbed down. He must have been working hard if the colour in his cheeks was anything to go by. That was probably from climbing around and moving whatever equipment was up there. As soon as Hank's booted feet touched the ground, he looped an arm around his shoulders and led him towards the doors. "Come on, we must be pretty late for the chickens. Where's Allen?"

"Finishing up in the stables. It looks like Bessie might have her foal tonight." They stopped long enough to bolt the barn doors before heading back to the coop. Feeding the chickens didn't last even half as long as Richard would have liked, and soon Hank was climbing over the fence to go home. It seemed he wouldn't be staying that night. It wasn't too surprising. Connor and Sumo would probably be lonely, and Allen was staying over, so it wasn't like he'd be alone. Seeing him coming, Connor zipped over to the fence, barking and planting his paws on Hank's thighs the moment he was over.

"Down, boy, down," Hank chuckled as he ruffled Connor's fur and set a hand on his head. Tail wagging, Connor did as he was told and sat looking back and forth between them. "I'll see you tomorrow." There was something almost regretful in his eyes as he leaned on the fence. Richard shuffled a little closer, wary of Connor as ever. "Why do you always look like that?" Hank asked with more than a little affection.

"Like what?" Chestnut eyes widened in surprise as Hank stroked his cheek with a rugged hand.

"Like you think you'll never see me again." He didn't even realise he was doing it. Unsure how to answer, Richard remained silent until Hank leaned closer and prickling whiskers teased his lips. Hank hummed as Richard stood on tiptoe to press closer and wrap his arms around his neck, and took the chance to run his tongue along his lips. He was shortly rewarded as Richard opened up to allow him entry and a hand laced in his hair to pull him closer.

It was with much regret that they finally drew back and parted ways. Allen must have entered through the front door, because the smell of cooking was already wafting through the hallway when Richard entered. He was making a simple spaghetti and tomato sauce dish. Something quick and easy, with a full pot of sauce that could be saved for a few extra meals. From the smouldering look on his face, Richard knew he'd been watching through the kitchen window. Aside from some minor teasing, the evening passed quietly.

Allen was halfway through a crime novel of some sort, and Richard was content reading the newspaper Allen had brought for him. After they'd joined forces to complete the crossword, they decided it was time for bed. Allen stepped out briefly to check on Bessie, who was pacing her stall, feeling restless, but otherwise normal. Once he got back, they went to bed. Richard to his room, and Allen to a spare room at the front of the house overlooking the front door and the path to the stables, with an alarm set for three hours' time.

It was barely three thirty when a firm hand quickly roused Richard from sleep. Half-asleep and bewildered, he followed Allen's hurried instructions to pull on some clothes and come to the stables. He seemed pretty excited, which was a sign to Richard that things were moving along with Bessie. His mood seemed to suggest something positive was going on, and that quickly spread to Richard as he pulled on his clothes and followed him out.

"It's starting! You have to see this." Allen had seen it before, of course, but he knew it would be a new experience for Richard. Richard couldn't help feeling anxious as he followed Allen into the stables and hovered quietly outside the stall. Because she was likely to give birth, Bessie was in a larger stall with lower railings so they could see inside. It gave her plenty of room to stand and sit, and pace back and forth. From the state of the straw, Richard could tell she'd been doing her fair share of pacing. Her reddish fur was glossy from the heat, dark tail rising and flicking, and beneath her tail, Richard was shocked to see two small hooves protruding. "It's looking good so far."

"How can you tell?" Richard joined Allen in whispering, as if the slightest noise might bother the already stressed mare. They stood a little way down the walkway, keeping their distance and staying at the edge of Bessie's vision. She knew they were there, but they weren't pressing in and staring at her. She grunted and snorted, taking a few steps as if she thought that might help. As she turned again, they could now see more of the two little legs, hooves neatly hanging towards the ground.

"See the hooves? Those are the front legs, and they're pointing down, so it looks like the foal is in the right position." Richard didn't even realise there was a wrong position, though when he thought about it, a foal would be impossible to force out sideways. "The head should be next." There was something enchanting and horrific about watching, even at a distance. Allen was right about the head. He could just see the snout pushing its way out when Bessie let out what sounded like a rather pained whinny and lay down on her side.

"Is she alright? Should I call the vet?" She certainly didn't seem alright with all that huffing and panting. A hand on his arm reassured him somewhat. Allen didn't look worried as they remained out of the way, monitoring from a distance.

"She should be fine. It's normal for mares to lie down for the last part." The last part? The foal's nose was barely showing! Allen checked his watch and insisted again that everything was fine so far. Richard took his word for it, hovering anxiously at his shoulder as Bessie huffed and grunted. Allen watched like a hawk, checking his watch the whole time. Was the timing important? If it went on too long, did it mean there was a problem? More and more of the sodden foal appeared, until with a final push, half the body seem to be ejected at once. Seeing the foal appear, Allen stepped a little closer and squinted through the bars. The poor, sodden thing remained in a small heap, making him think he might have to go inside.

"I-is it breathing?" Richard appeared beside him, looking between Allen and the unmoving foal. With a tiny, wet sound, the foal lifted its small head, though not for more than a second. From the wetness of its breath, it sounded like there was a little trouble, and Bessie didn't seem ready to sit up just yet.

"Wait here." She probably wouldn't want both of them in there. Grabbing a small towel he'd left ready, Allen slipped inside, doing his best not to make the door creak. Bessie noticed straight away, of course, but made no move to stop him as he crept closer. "Good girl, you did so well," he praised softly as he approached the foal, which was two shades darker than Bessie with all the birthing fluids. He wouldn't clean off too much. That was Bessie's job, but he did run the towel over the foals face and nose, thoroughly cleaning off the thick gunk around its nose and mouth.

As soon as the foal took a clean breath, Allen slinked his way out again to stand watch. Although she didn't stand yet, Bessie pushed herself up enough to lick at the foal's neck and back. Richard remained at the bars, quite enchanted as he watched the small foal gradually coming to life. Now it could breathe, it seemed to gain strength. It flopped on its side, bringing itself a little closer to Bessie's tongue as she licked. Within a few minutes, Bessie finally hauled herself to her feet and bathed her foal more thoroughly.

"Is it over?" The foal was born, so it had to be, right?

"Not quite...The foal needs to stand first, and I want to make sure the placenta was passed." If it wasn't, that could cause Bessie trouble later, and it was hard to tell from outside. Allen huffed softly, seeing about a dozen questions forming in Richard's head. "It'll probably take another hour for the foal to stand, and then I'll check Bessie over...We need to give them some bonding time first." Richard nodded his understanding. She'd just pushed out a whole new horse. She was probably exhausted and more than a little irritable. Allen backed off a little as Bessie snorted, bringing Richard with him.

"Should I call the vet to check her over?"

"Not yet...So long as the next couple of hours go as planned, the vet can come later on today or tomorrow. Why don't you hold off until normal opening time? Things are going well so far." With them now standing at a distance, Bessie had fully turned her attention to the new foal, which had already given its first small bleating cry. Richard was torn between wanting to stay and watch, and wanting to get the fields cleaned up for later. Allen assured him the fields weren't going anywhere, and how often did you get to see a foal being born? With that in mind, Richard remained outside the stall and watched as the foal grew more and more restless.

It seemed instinctual as the foal started moving its legs and tried to lift itself. Allen seemed relaxed and unconcerned. Each of the joints were bending as they should, and even as it fell, it was learning how to carry its weight. Richard felt a little bad watching it struggle. The first time it barely lifted its chest, and even when the front legs were ready, its back legs couldn't take the weight. Richard grinned as it finally managed its first step. It fell down straight away, but a step was a step. Allen chuckled beside him and watched with folded arms as the foal finally got itself up and nosed its way under Bessie's swollen belly to find her teats.

"First feed, right on schedule." That sounded promising to Richard as Allen checked his watch again. "I'll let it feed first and then I'll go in and check on Bessie." He'd barely finished talking when the foal peeled itself away with a shake of its head and limped around to explore the small space. It barely took more than a minute of searching to find the placenta among the straw and other mess. Richard grimaced as Allen picked up the long length, which looked to be over a metre in length. Checking both ends, Allen gave a satisfied nod. "Pass me that bucket." Richard followed the instruction and watched as Allen coiled the placenta inside, saying that the vet may want to examine it later.

"You think she's hungry?" Richard was clearly eager to help as he hovered in the doorway, unsure what to do with himself. Bessie certainly seemed to agree as she huffed and bowed her head. Allen chuckled as he patted her damp flank, holding the bucket out of the way as the curious foal came sniffing.

"I wouldn't be surprised. Why don't you give her some feed while I clean up over here?" Allen wouldn't take them out just yet, but if Bessie stood to one side, it would give him space to clean up and replace the soiled bedding. Richard did as asked, filling a nose bag and cooing at Bessie as she walked over. He was generous with his affection, lavishing her with pets and praise as she ate her breakfast. Hearing the commotion, it wouldn't take the rest of the horses long to rouse themselves and call for their own morning feed. Allen worked fairly quickly, forking out the soiled bedding and scrubbing down the floor beneath before sweeping out the debris. Once there was a fresh layer of straw, Allen petted the foal and left the stall, leaving Richard to dote on Bessie as she nosed his chest.

"I know, I know! You did a good job, yes you did!" he praised as he scratched her neck and stroked her nose. It didn't take long for the foal to hobble over for a second feed, so Richard backed out and left them, bolting the door and giving them some privacy. As far as he could tell, everything had gone remarkably well, and all that was left was to have Luther come and check them over.