All the King's Horses 4/? : A Stable Life
Mar. 23rd, 2005 09:12 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: All the King's Horses 4/?: A Stable Life
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Being gay is not easy for two men in the small-town South of the late '80s.
Warnings: This chapter, no much. AU. Some mention of het content, not explicit. Real-life angst.
Disclaimer: This is complete fiction. The characters in this story are being "played" by certain real actors, but that's the only connection with reality. None of the characters is meant to be a real person.
A/N: Viggo as V. Michael Delany, aka Dr. D, middle school principal and sometime junior college English teacher; Sean Bean as Sean Baker, car salesman and horseman; Orlando as James Orlando Kennedy, newspaper reporter. Feedback would really be appreciated on this one.
Baker's Stables, October, early evening
Gravel crunched underfoot as two men walked in companionable silence from the brightly-lit house at their backs toward the equally brightly-lit barn at the end of the long path. A child's muffled yell from the house spoke of sibling squabbles, and blended seamlessly with the occasional nicker and whinny from the barn, where the horses were being fed.
"Getting chilly after dark. Need a jacket soon," Sean said, taking a sip of post-dinner coffee from his extra-large mug with its wobbly and bright red "No. 1 Dad" label.
"Yep." Michael resisted rubbing his arms, bare under a short-sleeved tee. His coffee mug was plain and black. He was pretty sure Miranda had chosen the color on purpose. "Look, was it just me, or did Miranda seem a little extra frosty tonight?"
Sean growled a little under his breath. three more steps crunching before he answered. "It's not just you."
"Have I done something I don't know about that's upset her?" Michael stopped before they got to the barn, with its bright lights and cheerful human voices.
"She hasn't said anything, Mike." Sean ran a hand through his hair, leaving parts of it standing on end the same way it had since they were boys. "But obviously something's bugging her. And for some reason, it's about you."
"It's not like she's ever exactly loved me," Michael said ruefully, jamming his free hand into a jeans pocket. "But I swear... it's getting so I'm about scared to come over here." He laughed a little, keeping it a joke, but Sean could hear the thread of truth that ran through it. Michael pulled in a deep breath and stepped slightly closer to Sean, dropping his voice. "She still doesn't know about me, right?" Intense blue eyes studied Sean's green ones in the sidelight from the barn.
"It's the one secret I've kept from my wife," Sean said firmly. "And you know I always will."
Michael sighed and leaned his head over to rest against Sean's shoulder for a moment. "I know," he said softly. "I just... " a little exhale of a laugh.. "I worry."
"Yeah, well, you got reason to, y'fairy," Sean murmured, ruffling Michael's hair.
"Bite your tongue," Michael murmured.
Sean chuckled quietly. "Whatever burr Miranda's got under her saddle, that's not it."
Michael straightened and backed away, automatically lifting a hand to run through his hair. He glanced toward the house and saw a figure standing at one of the windows, but it moved before he could say anything. One of the kids, he told himself. One of the kids. "So, what's on your slate for tonight?" he asked Sean, trying to change the mood.
"Ah, got a couple of yearlings to work with, and a four-year-old to school for show." Side by side they started for the barn. "You gonna be here for a while?"
"Not long tonight, sorry. Got a damn seventh-grade statewide assessment form that has to be filled out and submitted by Friday. I'll be generating academic gibberish all night."
"Sounds like fun. Not."
"Trade you."
"Hah. You wish."
They entered the spacious barn to its familiar smells of dusty straw, dirt, leather and faint manure. One of the barn cats sprawled its orange length across the middle of the corridor, snoozing.
"Good way to get stomped, cat," Michael muttered good-naturedly as they stepped around it and headed toward the office midway down the front corridor.
"Evening, Sean," called one of the boarders from the washrack, where she was hosing down her gray Arabian. "Mike. Haven't seen you in a while."
"Been too busy educating those hellions you call children," Michael replied with a grin.
"Right," she snorted. "How come I can't tell any difference, then?" She flicked the hose, barely missing Michael with a shower of cold water.
"Hey, hey... keep the water in the rack," Sean growled. "Unless you wanna clean this place up after you get done with that mangy beast."
The woman chortled, flipped them both off and went back to soaping her horse.
Sean's office had been one of Michael's favorite places for a long time. A small space to begin with, the rough wooden walled area was jammed with tack - saddles on racks, bridles on pegs, halters and hackamores and martingales and bits and straps and even the odd crupper - with pads and blankets strewn over everything. One wall hosted a battered old desk with dozens of cubbyholes and a wall of cork above it with tacked-up notes dating back to the creation of writing. A small locked fridge in the corner held the barn's stock of refrigerated veterinary supplies and a locked cabinet beside it held the rest. In the small space left, two bedraggled leather chairs made themselves at home, welcoming anyone who needed to take a load off for a while.
Michael dropped into the chair farthest from the desk, stretching long jean-clad legs out with a sigh. "Can you write me a note so I don't have to go home?" He took a long sip of rich, sweet coffee.
Sean snorted and dropped into his chair, pulling his heiroglyphed calendar over to check the next day's work load. "Dear World, Please excuse Mike from living tonight. He's got a bad case of ennui."
"Ennui. Damn, Sean, when'd you learn a big word like that?"
Without even looking, Sean picked up a bit off the desktop and chucked it at Michael, who ducked just in time, laughing and miraculously managing not to spill coffee.
"You're not the only one who went to college, y'bastard."
"Yeah, but I'm the only one who stayed awake."
"Not my problem you never got any to keep you awake all night."
"Low blow. Besides I'm a better man for it." Michael's smile turned rueful and his attention went back to his coffee.
Sean glanced over at him, head cocked sideways, thoughtful. "When's the last time you went to Memphis, bro?"
"A while."
"Sounds like maybe you need to go this weekend."
"Got JV football early Friday night. God forbid I'm not there. They'd string me up by my balls."
"Still leaves Saturday, Mike. Just a quick trip. You're sounding... I dunno... lonely."
"Only because I am," Michael said softly. "And d'you really think a few hours of ..." he dropped his voice even lower... "anonymous fucking is gonna fix that?"
Sean rested a fist on Michael's knee and turned to lean toward him. "I know it won't. I know it can't. But I don't know what can... What you want... what you need... ain't gonna happen, Mike. Not here. You know it." He took a deep breath and thumped the knee hard, looking hard at Michael. "We could find you a girl. A nice girl. You could get married, have some kids-"
"We're not talking about this, Seanie."
"But surely it wouldn't be so bad. I mean, you could pretend-"
"How many times have we had this argument?" Michael hissed, low. "It would be a lie. It wouldn't be the same. It would be a cheat and everybody involved would be miserable."
"Not so different from a lot of marriages."
"No. We're not discussing this."
"I'm just saying-"
"No."
Sean sighed, tapped the knee one more time and sat back with a nod. "You're a hard-headed bastard, Mike Delany."
"And you love me for it."
"No, I love you in spite of it." Clapping his hands to his thighs, Sean stood and let it go. "Lady Anne foaled last night. Want to meet the baby boy?"
"You bet." Michael drained the rest of his coffee and left the mug on Sean's desk. "Then I need to drop in on mi compadre Rembrandt. Probably won't get out to do any serious riding til Sunday afternoon."
Side by side they ambled down the central corridor, past the now-empty washrack and a sorrel gelding tied outside his stall. Lady Anne was in one of the barn's two foaling stalls, tucked away down a side aisle to gain a little quiet. Sean opened the latch and slipped into the stall, grinning with unvarnished pleasure. Michael followed him, Lady Anne watching them both with unworried caution. Behind her chestnut legs stuttered the dark bay spindly legs of her foal, who wandered toward her head to peek out at them from under her neck.
"Ah, look at that," Michael said with honest admiration. "He's a beauty, Sean."
"Got the look of his sire. And three socks, so not bad luck." Sean dropped slowly to a crouch and clucked to the foal, who edged curiously further from behind his mother.
"Planning to keep him?"
"I hope so. Just have to see how the finances go. Don't have a name yet. You got any suggestions?"
"For Lady Anne's first? How about Henry?"
Sean chuckled, holding fingers out to the foal, who stretched his head out to sniff. "Henry. Now there's a name. How 'bout Henry Kissinger? There's a fine big name for little fella."
"Even you wouldn't do that to a horse. How about Henry Gibson?"
"Henry the Eighth?"
"Henry Ford?"
"Henry Mancini."
Michael made a fake gagging sound. "Henri Toulouse-Lautrec."
"Oh yeah, I can see announcers at horse shows around here pronouncing that one," Sean said drily. "Maybe just Henry."
"Just Henry. There ya go." Michael leaned back against the stall wall and watched Sean coax the foal out and set to work stroking it all over.
Maybe all he did was joke about it, but on a lot of days, Michael really was jealous of Sean, of his kids, of his work with the horses. He wasn't jealous of Sean's day job as a salesman at the Chevrolet dealership, but then Sean wasn't too nuts about that, either. Horses didn't pay the bills, though, and the Bakers had agreed they wanted Miranda to be full-time at home at least until the kids were in high school, so every day Sean got up before the sun to work in the stables, then put in eight hours selling cars, then worked into the night at what he loved. Michael came out and helped with the stables when he could - a lot during summers - but since his promotion from high school English teacher to junior high principal, he hadn't had as much free time either.
All told, it wasn't where either of them had dreamed of ending up, back when they were the only two boys awash in a sea of girls in their neighborhood, playing cowboys and soldiers and rock stars from breakfast 'til moonrise. They'd been inseparable. Born only four months apart - Michael was slightly older - they lived three houses apart out in the country, each surrounded by sisters. They went through everything together.
Sean was going to breed and train race horses. Michael was going to be a novelist, or maybe an artist. Now Sean sold cars and Michael herded kids. Michael loved men and couldn't do that, not here, not now, not without devastating consequences. And Sean had a wife who seemed to be turning ever more odd on him, even though he was doing an excellent job of ignoring it.
Just... hell. Michael sighed and stood away from the wall. Sean looked up from where he was gently lifting the foal's feet one by one.
"I'm gonna go see Rem," Michael said, opening the door. "I'll see you before I go."
" 'kay." Sean watched his cousin slip out of the stall and walk away toward the other side of the barn where one of the extra boarding stalls held his gelding, Rembrandt. Something was eating Mike. Maybe it was just the usual, but if it was, it was a heavy dose. And Sean hated to see him hurting.
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Being gay is not easy for two men in the small-town South of the late '80s.
Warnings: This chapter, no much. AU. Some mention of het content, not explicit. Real-life angst.
Disclaimer: This is complete fiction. The characters in this story are being "played" by certain real actors, but that's the only connection with reality. None of the characters is meant to be a real person.
A/N: Viggo as V. Michael Delany, aka Dr. D, middle school principal and sometime junior college English teacher; Sean Bean as Sean Baker, car salesman and horseman; Orlando as James Orlando Kennedy, newspaper reporter. Feedback would really be appreciated on this one.
Baker's Stables, October, early evening
Gravel crunched underfoot as two men walked in companionable silence from the brightly-lit house at their backs toward the equally brightly-lit barn at the end of the long path. A child's muffled yell from the house spoke of sibling squabbles, and blended seamlessly with the occasional nicker and whinny from the barn, where the horses were being fed.
"Getting chilly after dark. Need a jacket soon," Sean said, taking a sip of post-dinner coffee from his extra-large mug with its wobbly and bright red "No. 1 Dad" label.
"Yep." Michael resisted rubbing his arms, bare under a short-sleeved tee. His coffee mug was plain and black. He was pretty sure Miranda had chosen the color on purpose. "Look, was it just me, or did Miranda seem a little extra frosty tonight?"
Sean growled a little under his breath. three more steps crunching before he answered. "It's not just you."
"Have I done something I don't know about that's upset her?" Michael stopped before they got to the barn, with its bright lights and cheerful human voices.
"She hasn't said anything, Mike." Sean ran a hand through his hair, leaving parts of it standing on end the same way it had since they were boys. "But obviously something's bugging her. And for some reason, it's about you."
"It's not like she's ever exactly loved me," Michael said ruefully, jamming his free hand into a jeans pocket. "But I swear... it's getting so I'm about scared to come over here." He laughed a little, keeping it a joke, but Sean could hear the thread of truth that ran through it. Michael pulled in a deep breath and stepped slightly closer to Sean, dropping his voice. "She still doesn't know about me, right?" Intense blue eyes studied Sean's green ones in the sidelight from the barn.
"It's the one secret I've kept from my wife," Sean said firmly. "And you know I always will."
Michael sighed and leaned his head over to rest against Sean's shoulder for a moment. "I know," he said softly. "I just... " a little exhale of a laugh.. "I worry."
"Yeah, well, you got reason to, y'fairy," Sean murmured, ruffling Michael's hair.
"Bite your tongue," Michael murmured.
Sean chuckled quietly. "Whatever burr Miranda's got under her saddle, that's not it."
Michael straightened and backed away, automatically lifting a hand to run through his hair. He glanced toward the house and saw a figure standing at one of the windows, but it moved before he could say anything. One of the kids, he told himself. One of the kids. "So, what's on your slate for tonight?" he asked Sean, trying to change the mood.
"Ah, got a couple of yearlings to work with, and a four-year-old to school for show." Side by side they started for the barn. "You gonna be here for a while?"
"Not long tonight, sorry. Got a damn seventh-grade statewide assessment form that has to be filled out and submitted by Friday. I'll be generating academic gibberish all night."
"Sounds like fun. Not."
"Trade you."
"Hah. You wish."
They entered the spacious barn to its familiar smells of dusty straw, dirt, leather and faint manure. One of the barn cats sprawled its orange length across the middle of the corridor, snoozing.
"Good way to get stomped, cat," Michael muttered good-naturedly as they stepped around it and headed toward the office midway down the front corridor.
"Evening, Sean," called one of the boarders from the washrack, where she was hosing down her gray Arabian. "Mike. Haven't seen you in a while."
"Been too busy educating those hellions you call children," Michael replied with a grin.
"Right," she snorted. "How come I can't tell any difference, then?" She flicked the hose, barely missing Michael with a shower of cold water.
"Hey, hey... keep the water in the rack," Sean growled. "Unless you wanna clean this place up after you get done with that mangy beast."
The woman chortled, flipped them both off and went back to soaping her horse.
Sean's office had been one of Michael's favorite places for a long time. A small space to begin with, the rough wooden walled area was jammed with tack - saddles on racks, bridles on pegs, halters and hackamores and martingales and bits and straps and even the odd crupper - with pads and blankets strewn over everything. One wall hosted a battered old desk with dozens of cubbyholes and a wall of cork above it with tacked-up notes dating back to the creation of writing. A small locked fridge in the corner held the barn's stock of refrigerated veterinary supplies and a locked cabinet beside it held the rest. In the small space left, two bedraggled leather chairs made themselves at home, welcoming anyone who needed to take a load off for a while.
Michael dropped into the chair farthest from the desk, stretching long jean-clad legs out with a sigh. "Can you write me a note so I don't have to go home?" He took a long sip of rich, sweet coffee.
Sean snorted and dropped into his chair, pulling his heiroglyphed calendar over to check the next day's work load. "Dear World, Please excuse Mike from living tonight. He's got a bad case of ennui."
"Ennui. Damn, Sean, when'd you learn a big word like that?"
Without even looking, Sean picked up a bit off the desktop and chucked it at Michael, who ducked just in time, laughing and miraculously managing not to spill coffee.
"You're not the only one who went to college, y'bastard."
"Yeah, but I'm the only one who stayed awake."
"Not my problem you never got any to keep you awake all night."
"Low blow. Besides I'm a better man for it." Michael's smile turned rueful and his attention went back to his coffee.
Sean glanced over at him, head cocked sideways, thoughtful. "When's the last time you went to Memphis, bro?"
"A while."
"Sounds like maybe you need to go this weekend."
"Got JV football early Friday night. God forbid I'm not there. They'd string me up by my balls."
"Still leaves Saturday, Mike. Just a quick trip. You're sounding... I dunno... lonely."
"Only because I am," Michael said softly. "And d'you really think a few hours of ..." he dropped his voice even lower... "anonymous fucking is gonna fix that?"
Sean rested a fist on Michael's knee and turned to lean toward him. "I know it won't. I know it can't. But I don't know what can... What you want... what you need... ain't gonna happen, Mike. Not here. You know it." He took a deep breath and thumped the knee hard, looking hard at Michael. "We could find you a girl. A nice girl. You could get married, have some kids-"
"We're not talking about this, Seanie."
"But surely it wouldn't be so bad. I mean, you could pretend-"
"How many times have we had this argument?" Michael hissed, low. "It would be a lie. It wouldn't be the same. It would be a cheat and everybody involved would be miserable."
"Not so different from a lot of marriages."
"No. We're not discussing this."
"I'm just saying-"
"No."
Sean sighed, tapped the knee one more time and sat back with a nod. "You're a hard-headed bastard, Mike Delany."
"And you love me for it."
"No, I love you in spite of it." Clapping his hands to his thighs, Sean stood and let it go. "Lady Anne foaled last night. Want to meet the baby boy?"
"You bet." Michael drained the rest of his coffee and left the mug on Sean's desk. "Then I need to drop in on mi compadre Rembrandt. Probably won't get out to do any serious riding til Sunday afternoon."
Side by side they ambled down the central corridor, past the now-empty washrack and a sorrel gelding tied outside his stall. Lady Anne was in one of the barn's two foaling stalls, tucked away down a side aisle to gain a little quiet. Sean opened the latch and slipped into the stall, grinning with unvarnished pleasure. Michael followed him, Lady Anne watching them both with unworried caution. Behind her chestnut legs stuttered the dark bay spindly legs of her foal, who wandered toward her head to peek out at them from under her neck.
"Ah, look at that," Michael said with honest admiration. "He's a beauty, Sean."
"Got the look of his sire. And three socks, so not bad luck." Sean dropped slowly to a crouch and clucked to the foal, who edged curiously further from behind his mother.
"Planning to keep him?"
"I hope so. Just have to see how the finances go. Don't have a name yet. You got any suggestions?"
"For Lady Anne's first? How about Henry?"
Sean chuckled, holding fingers out to the foal, who stretched his head out to sniff. "Henry. Now there's a name. How 'bout Henry Kissinger? There's a fine big name for little fella."
"Even you wouldn't do that to a horse. How about Henry Gibson?"
"Henry the Eighth?"
"Henry Ford?"
"Henry Mancini."
Michael made a fake gagging sound. "Henri Toulouse-Lautrec."
"Oh yeah, I can see announcers at horse shows around here pronouncing that one," Sean said drily. "Maybe just Henry."
"Just Henry. There ya go." Michael leaned back against the stall wall and watched Sean coax the foal out and set to work stroking it all over.
Maybe all he did was joke about it, but on a lot of days, Michael really was jealous of Sean, of his kids, of his work with the horses. He wasn't jealous of Sean's day job as a salesman at the Chevrolet dealership, but then Sean wasn't too nuts about that, either. Horses didn't pay the bills, though, and the Bakers had agreed they wanted Miranda to be full-time at home at least until the kids were in high school, so every day Sean got up before the sun to work in the stables, then put in eight hours selling cars, then worked into the night at what he loved. Michael came out and helped with the stables when he could - a lot during summers - but since his promotion from high school English teacher to junior high principal, he hadn't had as much free time either.
All told, it wasn't where either of them had dreamed of ending up, back when they were the only two boys awash in a sea of girls in their neighborhood, playing cowboys and soldiers and rock stars from breakfast 'til moonrise. They'd been inseparable. Born only four months apart - Michael was slightly older - they lived three houses apart out in the country, each surrounded by sisters. They went through everything together.
Sean was going to breed and train race horses. Michael was going to be a novelist, or maybe an artist. Now Sean sold cars and Michael herded kids. Michael loved men and couldn't do that, not here, not now, not without devastating consequences. And Sean had a wife who seemed to be turning ever more odd on him, even though he was doing an excellent job of ignoring it.
Just... hell. Michael sighed and stood away from the wall. Sean looked up from where he was gently lifting the foal's feet one by one.
"I'm gonna go see Rem," Michael said, opening the door. "I'll see you before I go."
" 'kay." Sean watched his cousin slip out of the stall and walk away toward the other side of the barn where one of the extra boarding stalls held his gelding, Rembrandt. Something was eating Mike. Maybe it was just the usual, but if it was, it was a heavy dose. And Sean hated to see him hurting.
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no subject
Date: 2005-03-24 05:13 am (UTC)I love the closeness of Sean & Michael.
Loved that he wanted to name the foal "Henry". Very sweet!
I still wonder what the heck is up with Miranda though? :o\
no subject
Date: 2005-03-24 05:18 am (UTC)I think Sean ended up naming the foal Just Henry. ::grin::
Rain
no subject
Date: 2005-03-24 06:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-24 07:20 am (UTC)"Yeah, well, you got reason to, y'fairy," Sean murmured, ruffling Michael's hair.
Gorgeous :)
no subject
Date: 2005-03-24 02:48 pm (UTC)but I wonbder what miranda's problem is..
no subject
Date: 2005-03-31 09:56 am (UTC)