Polo and Dreameh's VERY short RP. For real this time. (Mature)

"Well sat!" Sloan laughed, "I've never seen anybody stick to Dart that well when she's having one of her fits." He grinned brightly - clearly enjoying himself, despite what he'd said - and nodded toward the mare, who was now gradually relaxing.
"Just wait, Dane. It's coming. That's a remarkable horse - once she settles down, you'll never want to get off."

And sure enough, as Dart's energy began to burn away, the unfit mare started to huff, and gradually relaxed.
As the tension left her, her neck rounded gracefully, and she accepted the bit with the lightness of a feather. Her hurried, unbalanced stride balanced out - and she stopped pulling herself along on the forehand, but engaged her quarters instead, and began gliding over the ground in a weightless canter.
Her long, slender legs performed a dance that would put a pro ballerina to shame, and her neck bulged with muscle not used in years.

"See?" Sloan jeered, grinning at his mare in admiration, "That is what a schooled horse rides like, my friend. Now walk her out and put her away. She's unfit. Next time you should get some proper work done - she won't be as silly, then."

He walked over to open the gate, then paused and checked his watch. 6:45.
"Say, Dane..." He glanced back over his shoulder at the man, "Wanna grab a beer after this? I've gotta be out until 2AM anyway - the girlfriend - or ex, I should say - is moving her stuff out, and she wants me out of the apartment." He rolled his eyes, "Women, huh? So anyway, if you're keen, I could use the company. I'm sick of sitting in a bar, listening to drunk strangers sobbing out their entire life stories."

Dane caught his breath, sat deeply in the saddle and calmly asked the mare to walk, which she did quietly and gracefully. He hardly believed she was the same horse that had bombed off with him moments earlier. Once he was sure she wouldn't go mad, he lengthened her reins and patted her neck.
"Yeah, she's quite comfortable when she's not doing handstands every other stride." He joked, dismounting and leading her out the arena, giving her chance to stretch her long, elegant neck.
"And alright, I'll join ya. But I'll need a wash first, which shouldn't take long, and I won't be having beer. I'm more of a 'J2O' or 'coca cola' guy, if you don't mind."
He decided to leave out the fact that he'd never had a girlfriend, and the only decent women company he'd really ever experienced was Claire, and she had to be at least six years older than him. She was really more of a sister to him, than anything else.
He unbuckled his helmet and took it off, running up the stirrups as he led her out towards her stable.
"But hey, she's a nice horse, even in 'monster' mode." He teased, winking at Sloan teasingly. "She must be quite a pro when she gets down to it."

"Suit yourself." Sloan shrugged, "But don't mind if I get sloshed."
He laid a hand on Dart's shoulder, and walked along beside the horse as he continued talking to Dane.
"Pro indeed." He agreed, "This horse was a beast in her day. She'd have made it right to the top, I'm telling you. Never seen a horse that attacks a cross country course like Dart does."
The mare snorted as though in agreement, and Sloan laughed.
"Thanks for riding her, Dane. She's been dying for a ride for ages now - but it's impossible to find a rider worth a damn nowadays without paying an arm and a leg for it, and frankly I don't have enough limbs to spare." He joked sarcastically - making use of his usual awkwardly truthful style of humour.
"Anyway, freshen up and meet me at my Jeep if you like. Since you don't wanna drink, you've won the priveledge of being my designated driver for tonight." He flashed a grin, and slapped Dane jovially on the back. "Thanks for that, mate."
Ha laughed, then veered off toward his Jeep, leaving Dane to tend to Dart.

"Me? Ride her?" Dane snorted, scratching the mare's neck absentmindedly. "Mate, I was just a passenger trying to keep from swallowing the sand. It's not very tasty, I'll tell you that."
He chuckled tiredly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. He'd regret all this tomorrow, when his leg muscles ached like hell from fighting gravity to stay on the bugger's back.
"Don't mention it. It's my job, anyway. I'll see you there."
With that he led the mare to her stable, untacked her, gave her a bucket of water and fresh bedding then put away her tack. He then wandered to the hose, pulled off his shirt, and turned on the water.
He could have done this at home, or Claire's house. But he no onger had running water at his house because he couldn't afford the bills, and Claire was always out on Sundays with mates. It was the one day he couldn't shower properly.
He bent over and let the ice-cold water trickle over his sweaty head, scratching the bristly hair and shuddering to himself. He then ran the water over his shoulders, washing away his sweaty back.
He waited a few moments to dry off, teeth chattering, then realised he probably wouldn't dry unless he got moving.
Grumbling, he scooped his cap, twisted it backwards in an out-of-date fashionable style, so th shade of the cap was pressed against the back of his neck, then walked up to the jeep, praying it had heating. He climbed in, rubbing his arms desperately.
"Y-y-tou g-g-got h-heat-ting in-n this-s t-thing?" He stuttered helplessly.

When Dane got into the Jeep beside him, wet and shiverring, Sloan spontaneously burst out laughing. He couldn't help it - there was something so hilarious about Dane sitting there, soaking wet, when he himself was bone dry.
Well, either that, or he just felt slightly uncomfortable about the fact that the man was shirtless... Because damn, he had bloody nice abs!
That is, Sloan wished he could get a body like that. To impress chicks. Because he loved chicks...
He cleared his throat slightly awkwardly, and brushed his thoughts away.
"Yeah, it's got heating." He chuckled, turning the car on, and switing on the heating. "But seriously, man, if you're so cold - put a f**king shirt on." He snorted in amusement and shoot his head, then revved the Jeep into life, and pulled out onto the road.
He really did wish Dane would put a shirt on - because those gorgeous abs of his were making Sloan so jealous that he feared he would begin to blush...

((Awwwww I'm actually feeling all girly now. I cant help it, he's so cute!))

The look Dane gave Sloan when he was told to put a shirt on could have burned a hole right through the side of his skull. He wouldn't have been sat there, freezing his butt off if there was a way out of it, would he?
He stared longingly down at his own shirt, brushing the gravel and mud off the thick fabric. He really shouldn't have tossed it so carelessly on the floor when he'd had a wash. And he didn't have a towel... If he put the thing on he'd only get stones in his arm pits and he'd smell like a wet dog anyway.
Besides which, the shirt itself had been splashed slightly so it, too, was damp and just as cold as he was.
He hunched over, rubbing his arms miserably.
"Never m-mind coke. I'm g-grabbing a h-h-hot chocolate w-when we g-g-get there..." He coughed. "Jesus-s-s... It's times like t-this when I w-w-wish I had more h-hair." He groaned, gesturing to his near-bald head. (Got the spelling right this time! )
He watched the village pub come into sight, and realised that he'd probably have to put a shirt on before he got in because there was probably some law about indecency if he walked in there shirtless.
He unbuckled his belt and quickly pulled it over his head.
It made him feel no warmer.
"You'd better be paying, 'cause I'm broke." He said, climbing out of the jeep.

Sloan stopped the jeep outside the pub, and watched as Dane squirmed into his wet shirt. He didn't look much warmer.
With a sigh, Sloan leaned over into the back, and rummaged around until he found a worn, yet undeniably warm wool jersey. "Here." He said, tossing the faded black thing to Dane, "It's not exactly stylish, but it should keep you warm." He offered a slight smile, then got out of the car, and waited for Dane to follow before locking it.
"And yeah, I'll pay." He added, dropping the keys into his pocket and nodding towards the pub.
Funny... He'd given Dane his jersey, agreed to buy him drinks... It was just like a date! Now that was an amusing thought...
"Come on." He said, brushing his thoughts firmly aside once again, "I want to get totally wasted before the night is out, so I'd best get started now."
And sure enough, he walked straight up to the bar, and ordered a pint of beer - which he drained in one. When the barman came back over, Sloan just told him to keep them coming.
He knew fair well he had a drinking problem - he just didn't care enough to do anything about it.

Dae took the jersey without a second thought. He didn't give a crap how unstylish it was, if it warmed him up, he was all for it. He quickly pulled off his shirt and yanked on the jersey, stuffing the damp shirt in his pocket. (It's a big pocket, alright? )
By the time they'd been sat in the bar long enough, he could feel himself warming up. He ordered a bottle of Apple and Mango J20 and drank that from the bottle, watching Sloan gulp glass after glass like it was the last thing he'd ever do, eyebrows raised. His Dad had been this bad once, when Dane had been stupid enough to watch him. When things got worse he realised he didn't want to see his own Dad poison himself to death, and left him to it.
His biggest mistake.
Clearing his throat, he slurped on his perfectly clean fruit juice.
"Hey, don't you have more lessons tomorrow?" He asked the groggy Sloan with a slightly amused smirk.

"Yeah." Sloan grunted in response, "But if I'm going to be kicked out of my own f*king apartment for a night, I'm sure as Hell not gonna no it sober. Stock up on those para-what's-its for me, would you?"
He laid off the beer then - mostly because he couldn't drink any more - and slumped back in the bar stool.
One thing that could be said for Sloan: he held his liquor well. Four pints of beer down the line now, and it barely showed.
"Hey, Dane..." He began, reasing up to brush his fringe out of his eyes - then frowning when he remembered he'd cut his fringe off for his new job.
"I've been meaning to thank you. It's tough being the new guy - new job, new country... And, well, you've made it easier on me." He shrugged in a manly fashion, as though embarrassed by this slight display of sensitivity.
"You're a good guy."
He raised a hand to signal the bartender, and ordered a shot, which he downed expertly.
"Aaaand, that's me drunk." He concluded with a nod, as he felt the familiar fuzziness take over his mind.
It would probably be a good idea not to get too wasted tonight... He had a certain image to uphold for his new friend, after all.

((Geez... I'm too soft. Just started bawling at a documentary called 'The Real War Horse' and it showed a load of pictures of horses of horses that had drowned in mud and was talking about how they got put down, how they shot them etc. And did you know that 500,000 of the 750,000 horses that had survived all the way through WW1 were shot and sluaghtered to feed the umpteen German prisoners they'd captured? Yeahhh...It showed that too. ))

Dane's expression softened. Bless him, his new friend really had got himself bladdered. "Check your front pocket. I gave you a tray of six earlier on. If you've used them all up by now, expect excessive diorrhoea and a killer stomach ache in the morning. Oh, and I'll be dragging your waddling ass to the doctors before you can say 'Kimblewick'." (see what I did there? )
He finished his bottle of juice and happily ordered another.
"And you're welcome. What wouldyou do without me, eh?" He raised his eyebrows, enjoying Sloan's new sensitive mood. "Hey, thanks for the lessons. Honestly, you have no idea how much I've missed them... And by the sounds of it, I've needed them." He winked, slurping at his drink again.
"I hadn't really ridden much until I'd got Archie. I'd learned pretty much through books, videos and what he responded to. I must have looked like such a twirp when I'd first started at the stables. Speaking of which..." He leant an elbow back on the gold bar, a thoughtful frown forming on his face. "How come you don't want to ride Dart any more? If you don't mind me asking, again..."

((I would cry, too!!! That's so horrible! :'( ... I don't even want to think about it. I HATE people. -_- ))

“You don’t say…?” Sloan murmured in wonderment. He patted his front pocket, and sure enough, the foil tray made a crinkling sound.
He shrugged off his forgetfulness, and ordered another round of shots.
He’s already forgotten that the previous shot was supposed to be his last.
“Hm.” Sloan grunted, downing a shot, and slamming the glass back down on the table. “You’ve got shitty technique, but at least you have talent. That’s more important, anyway.” He yawned, and slumped back in the bar stool, which tipped precariously, though Sloan didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll get you trained up soon enough…”
He was silent a while then. He might even have drifted off for a moment – he was so drunk by now, it was hard to tell – but then Dane said something which called sense back to his sloshed mind.
"How come you don't want to ride Dart any more? If you don't mind me asking, again..."
He flashed an irritable glare, then looked away, and shook his head.
“It’s not that I don’t want to…” He sighed, “I’d love to ride Dart. It’s just-“ He broke off, shook his head again in irritation, and reached out for another shot. His fumbling fingers knocked the glass off the counter – but Sloan paid no mind when it shattered on the floor. He just reached for the next one, and downed it. “It’s complicated.” He finished with a sigh, “I just don’t ride any more. I gave it up. Simple as that.”
And he downed another shot to prove his point.
At least, he thought he did, but as it turned out the glass was empty. He was just too drunk to notice.

((I know. And after they'd put the horses through that to begin with, then killed them anyway. ))

"You're a charming guy, mate." Dane smirked sarcastically. "Even when pissed you know how to get a guy's confidence up. Still..." He shrugged, gulped down a few mouthfuls of juice and smiled. The sugar was starting to work on him like the alcohol on Sloan. "Nice to know someone has faith in me. I'll look forward to showing again, to be honest. I've missed doing it for fun. It feels like all my work so far has been for the owners and the owners only. But if I get a little better... We'll see." he lifted a leg and rested it on the bar of the stool a few inches higher than his feet. He was starting to feel warm in the thick woolly jersey, but he knew if he took it off he'd have nothing on underneath, and he wasn't in much of a mood to flash in front of a bar ful of people.
He accepted Sloan's answer, debating on whether or not to leave it like that. Maybe he should wait until his new friend was sober and actually wanted to tell him...
Oh well, he'd give it another go. One more question wouldn't hurt.
"But it's not like there's anything... Physical stopping you. I mean, dude, I've seen handless people ride. Half-paralysed people. Blind people... It's not impossible. With your skills you'd be back to normal in no time." His eyes shone brightly, trying not to look pushy. If Sloan wanted him tolet it slide, he would.
"Mind if I ask you what happened?" He asked quietly, nodding towards Sloan's leg.

“You calling me a cripple?” Sloan shot back, raising one eyebrow in mock aggression. Or perhaps it was serious aggression? Drunk as he was, it was hard to tell – but it amounted to the same thing, anyway.
“I know I could ride if I tried hard enough.” He said simply, “But I don’t ride any more. I quit.”
He stared into the bottom of the empty shot glass in his fingers for a while, before Dane’s question invaded his thoughts.
"Mind if I ask you what happened?"
“Forget that.” He sighed wearily, “I’ll show you.”
With that, he stood, and –telling the barman to put everything on his tab – began walking toward the door, gesturing for Dane to follow.

((Just going to skip ahead, because I want to keep this rolling. XD ))

He let Dane drive – because although he was drunk, he was not stupid – and the managed to find their way to Sloan’s apartment.
He noticed the absence of his long-term girlfriend’s belongings with little emotion – he had never cared for her much anyway – and walked toward the TV. Crouching down, he rummaged through the cupboard underneath until he found an ordinary-looking disk with something scribbled on it in black marker.
He put it into the DVD player, and flopped down on the couch, gesturing for Dane to take a seat beside him.
“I don’t know if it’ll mean anything to you…” He began, speaking in an unexpectedly ordinary tone, considering how much this topic really bothered him.
That was just Sloan, though. He’d always had trouble expressing himself.
“But my full name is Sloan Terse. I lived in America until a few years back, and this was the year I qualified for the olympics.” He gestured toward the screen, where a gorgeous grey warmblood was galloping with a sound like thunder around the Badminton course. The horse leaped athletically over the jumps – its rider negotiating the tricky lines effortlessly. It was an undeniably brilliant round – until one particular jump.
Sloan remembered it well, but he said nothing. The DVD would say it all.

As the great horse approached the jump – a massive log upright set in the middle of a HUGE ditch – its ears flicked back, and it hesitated. The rider – Sloan – reacted instantly, going to his whip to make up for the hesitation – but it was too late. The horse lauched an awkward jump, but the fence was outside its capabilities. His front knees smacked into the logs with a sound like gunfire, and the Warmblood somersaulted right over, its neck bending at a horribly awkward angle as it fell into the ditch, crushing its rider beneath it.
The fallen horse thrashed and flailed helplessly in the ditch – but no more was seen, because Sloan switched the TV off, then.
“That’s how it happened.” He said simply, “The horse’s neck was broken. Vets had to put him down on the spot. I was trapped under him for – I don’t know – must have been ten minutes, at least? My leg got caught between the horse and the jump – got totally twisted, shattered, and overall pretty darn f*cked, so they had to amputate it. I was lucky to survive, truth be told. I was out for nearly a week afterwards with a severe concussion. Broke a couple of ribs,” He pointed to his chest to indicate, “Dislocated my shoulder, broke my collar bone, fractured my spine…” Again, he pointed to each injury in turn.
“But still, they didn’t put me down.” He finished with a sarcastic little smile.
“And here I am.”

And indeed, that was how Sloan had lost his leg. As for why he’d given up riding, well… That was a whole other chapter of the story. But that wasn’t the question that Dane had asked, was it now?

Dane was surprised Sloan was able to even remember how to get back to his house, but they got there in the end. It was a nice place - warmer that Dane's scratty little apartment - roomier and far warmer. Dane almsot envied him for having such a liveable home, but he said nothing. Instead, he sat obediently down in front of the television and listened to Sloan as he introduced himself properly.
Training for the olympics, huh? No wonder the guy had skills!
But as he watched the sleek, grey horse on the screen, he realised what was coming.
Both horse and rider flew perfectly through the cross country course, bossing the tight angles and awkward jumps. Until the horse met it's match.
The rider fought to keep the horse going, but there was nothing he could do. His mount took a blind leap over the logs, landing disastrously on it's shoulder, trapping the rider beneath.
Dane's face tensed, contorting into a pained grimace as both horse and rider began to struggle in the deep, solid ditch. The screen flickered to black, and Dane was left staring in horror at the ghost of the images that hovered in his mind for a few moments afterwards.
He hated seeing animals in pain, but that fall had been something else...
His eyes didn't falter when Sloan began to list his own injuries, and swallowed thickly. No bloody wonder he felt bad. All it took was one bad jump and everything was ruined.

"Sh*t." He said simply, sitting back and brushing his head with the palm of his hand. What could you say to someone after seeing something like that?
"Mate, I'm sorry..." He shook his head, blushing slightly. He pulled his eyes up to look at Sloan, an apologetic tweak of his lips forming. "What I said back there... I didn't mean to call you a cripple. I was- Just trying to make a point. I guess I was being insensitive. Sorry."
He shrugged, trying his best to lighten the mood.
"I mean, you're not a cripple. I mean, crap, you have more skills and knowledge than me!"
He offered a light-hearted smile before turning bak to the blank screen with a wince. "I've seen some pretty bad falls, been in a couple of them, too. But nothing like..." He gestured pointedly to the TV. "Really, I'm... I'm sorry."

Sloan shrugged casually, and offered a slight smile. "Don't be sorry. It's eventing - it happens. Besides, I manage." He kicked his prosthetic leg to demonstate, and it made a dull 'clanging' sound in response. "It was never the fall that bothered me. If it had gone any other way, I would have been back in the saddle for the olympics that year, mark my words. But it was all so much more complicated than that..."
His tongue loosened by alcohol, Sloan suddenly found himself telling the story that he'd thought he never would... And he had to admit, it felt... Oddly relieving.
Yet still, his voice showed no emotion - nor did his face. He simply did not express well.
"My best friend and I both qualified for the olympics around the same time. Of the two of us, I was the one to make the team. But as it turned out, my family ran into financial problems just before Badminton, and I had to sell my horse to pay off my father's debt. I was pretty cut up about it - I'd had Woodsmoke from a foal. Backed him myself and everything. I'm sure you've seen him? He placed 5th in the individual olympics with his new rider... Anyway, since I sold Woodsmoke, that was my ticket to the olympics gone. But my friend - great guy that he is - said that I could take his horse. We both knew I was the better rider, and he trusted me with Courbette - that's the grey.
I'd only been riding the horse a month before Badminton - and that was my first event on him. So my friend and I walked the course together, and here's the kicker... When we walked that jump, he told me that Courbette wouldn't make it... That he wasn't ready. He told me to take the option. But I had faith in the horse, and in my ability. Perhaps too much faith... The start of our course was the stuff of legends. I felt invincible - there was just no way I was going to blow my chance by taking the option. So I took the direct route, and... Well-" He gestured toward the blank screen, indicating the fall.
"So you see, through stupid competitiveness, I killed a one-in-a-million horse, and ruined a great friendship. Hell, I never even spoke to my buddy after that. I took Dart and ran straight here with my tail between my legs." He sighed, shaking his head at his own cowardice, yet with a slightly amused smirk on his face.
"I vowed never to ride again after that. I'll only f**k up again, after all, so what's the point, really?"
He offered a mild smile, and shrugged his shoulders casually.
"So that's my story, Dane. That's why I don't ride."

Dane's frown furrowed as Sloan went into his story, his lips keeping obediently closed. Besides, there was nothing to say... He knew there was something beyond Sloan's physical ability that was stopping him from riding again. But he'd had no idea...
The guy had given up his career and all he loved because of one mess-up. Granted, he'd buggered it up pretty bad, what with having the horse put down and losing his best friend. But He still had Dart, and surely by not being ridden by the love ofher life was cruel on her?
He swallowed uncomfortably, looking down. He'd kind of hoped he was just a temporary rider for that mare, but the way Sloan was thinking, he was seen as a permanent one. He didn't really like the sound of that, as much as he loved Dart's skills - once she calmed down - he had other horses to train. Besides Archie. He couldn't ride her forever, and he knew she wouldn't want that either. Maybe, deep down, niether did Sloan.
"Mate, you know Dart far more than you probably knew your mate's horse. You know what her abilities are, and you couldn't possibly mess anything up with her."
It would take some time, he knew. But eventually - he promised himself silently - Sloan would ride again. He just need confidence in himself. That couldn't be too hard to sort, could it?
"There is no way you're totally happy with me riding her instead of you. Tell yourself what you want, but Sloan... I don't have the time nor the human ability to add another horse to my list of 'Work in progresses'. I can't ride her forever, you must know that."
He glanced slighty nervously at Sloan, praying he'd understand.
"I'll find time for now, but I have at least four others that need frequent training. Believe it or not, I do like to sleep every now and then." He offered a smile.
"I'm sorry about what happened, mate. Really, I am. I get what you're trying to do, with Dart. I just... I don't know. I feel bad riding a horse that isn't mine, knowing the true owner's watching from a distance. It's..." He shook his head. "I- Don't know... Maybe I'm just too sensitive. I've heard that one before." He chuckled tiredly to himself, wiping his dry eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
"You do get my point, right?"

Sloan smiled sadly, and nodded in response. "I knew you wouldn't be able to ride her forever." He said, "I never expected you to. I was just curious as to how she'd go for you - to see if I'd be able to find somebody for her. I should really sell her, you know. It's not right to waste her, and I need the funds - but she's so sensitive, I was just never sure she'd accept another rider..." He sighed, "Guess I figured if you worked on her, maybe she'd learn."
Funny, he didn't sound too pleased by the fact that his plan was successful thus far. Actually, it wasn't funny at all. It was obvious he didn't want to sell his mare.
"I know you think I should ride her myself." He said, glancing toward Dane with a smile that might have been sincere, "But you don't get it, Mate. It's not about Dart. It never was... She knows what she's getting into when she jumps cross country. I've never met a horse that 'knows' like she does - bloody creature's more intelligent than most people I know!
"It's not that I'm scared of screwing up, that I'm worried I'll hurt her... I just-" He shook his head, and stared thoughtfully at the remote in his hands.
Why didn't he ride? Even he didn't fully understand it...
"I just... Can't. It's not that I'm scared." He repeated again, "It's not... I- Oh, I don't know. Good night."
With that, he slapped Dane fondly on the shoulder, and randomly got to his feet.
"I'm too think to drunk." He grunted - then went on without even noticing his error. "You can take the Jeep," (Clearly he had forgotten he would need it to get to work in the morning.), "Or crash here. I don't care, I'm going to head before I pass out with my bed in the crapper again."
Again, Sloan did not notice his mistake - but he kept his word, and staggered drunkenly to bed.

Dane watched Sloan waddle off towards the bedroom, unable to understand what it was he'd just heard. Sloan was planning on selling Dart? But... Why? He couldn't comprehend it. Dart adored him, and he loved her. He couldn't seriously want to sell her?
Of course he didn't. There was something else behind all this, something that Dane swore to himself that he'd find out.
He grunted a tired 'good night' to Sloan's back and turned around to study the room. There was no way he had the energy to drive back to his dump of a home. Besides which, how would Sloan get to work the next morning?
So, he improvised. He went to the sofa, grabbed a fleece throw,kicked offhis shoes and stripped into his underwear. It was a habit by now, and Claire didn't seem to mind. Well, she didn't complain, anyway. Since Sloan was a guy, he presumed he wouldn't mind either.
He wrapped the blanket around himself, curled up on the sofa and drifted off to sleep to the smell of alcohol and some perfume of a girl he knew hadn't been around for a long while.

((Trying to shorten it. We;re getting longer!! XD))

((Damn it! Down, word count, down!!! XD ))

When Sloan staggered out of his bed the next morning with a hangover that would put Nearly Headless Nick’s perpetual headache to shame, he was horrified – though perhaps not as surprised as he ought to be – to find a half-naked man on his couch.
“What the f**k did I do last night…?” He muttered under his breath – staring at the elegant contours of the man’s bare back in what was supposed to be disgust, but ended up looking more like curious approval.
Then the man rolled over, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh thank goodness!” He exclaimed with a shaky laugh, “It’s only you, Dane.”
He offered a slight smile, then yawned and dragged his feet to the kitchen, fetching a case of asprin from the cupboard.
He was obviously still a little drunk from last night – because for some reason his gaze kept creeping back to Dane’s finely chiseled abs…
Why was Dane naked, anyway? Perhaps he’d ask…
“Hey man,” He said, walking back to the couch with a glass of water in his hand, “Did a hobo break in and steal your clothes, or do you just have no shame?”
He asked this in a casually conversational manner, yet with a slight hint of underlying sarcasm to his tone, and a polite smile on his face.

Dane groaned, praying it was the weekend. He had a seperate part-time job which got him a little easy money, and it also gave him the chance to have a lie in. But of course, it was stillearly dawn and Sloan had walked in on him.
He glanced down at his plain, grey boxers with a frown. He hadn't actually remembered taking anythng off, but he'd found from experience he got warmer easier if some skin was showing. But had he been so tired that he'd totally forgotten he was in a near-stranger's house?
"Neither." He croaked, too groggy to notice the sarcasm in the man's tone. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and yawned. "I was... Cold." He smiled tiredly, realising how illogical he sounded, and stretched his arms above his head.
"Sorry..." He muttered, the smile back to tease on his lips. It was obvious that he only half-meant it. "Erm... I don't suppose you have a... Running shower, do you?" He asked, feeling his cheeks flush. It seemed he was the only one in five square miles out from the village that didn't have running water, and it shamed him.
"Could I borrow it?"

"Sure you can borrow it." Sloan replied, impressively sarcastic for a guy so hungover that his headache would put thumbscrews to shame. “Just give me a moment to hack it out of the wall, and I’ll give it to you right now.”
He yawned, scratching his head, then pointed down the hall to the shower. “It gets pretty hot in there, so best take your clothes with you.” He added mockingly – clearly enjoying amusing himself at Dane’s expense.
“Oh, and try to be quick, and don’t use all the hot water. I’m dying for a shower.” He pulled a face, “I smell like a bar.”

((Behold the shortness! XD ))

Dane shot Sloan a look, wriggling out of the blanket wrapped around his waist and standing up. He was around the same height as Sloan, not too tall, but if he had hair he'd have looked much taller. However, he never really cared much about what he looked like. Even with his body... He didn't work out to look attractive, but because it helped him with his work.
"I'll try not to." He mused, wiping his nose carelessly with his thumb. He wouldn't mention that he'd not had a hot shower in at least three days, and he was craving warmth that didn't have to come with blood, sweat and tears on a side plate.
He grabbed his jodphurs and wandered tiredly over to the small bathroom. He stopped, turned back to Sloan and asked flatly. "D'you have a shirt? I don't really want to have to wear the one I got filthy yesterday, and it's going to be too warm for the jersey. Unless you'd rather I rode with you topless on the long ride to my place..." He shrugged. One thing he didn't mind, wandering without a shirt on. He did it so often on his own, bar at the stables, that he'd become used to doing it even with people around.

“Of course I have a shirt.” Sloan shot back, smirking.
And in fact, that was all he said. Dane hadn’t specifically asked if he could borrow one, after all… He’d only asked if Sloan had one – and he had answered honestly. He had plenty of shirts. But why on earth would he want to offer one to Dane…?
Clearly pleased with himself, he turned his back on Dane, and limped off in a smug fashion.
He was stiff from the incident with the quadbike the previous day… So typical of him – getting overly competitive, and f**king things up.
His good mood began to deteriorate with this thought…

Dane watched his new friend walk off with a devious smirk, pulling a face to himself. He'd kind of hoped by now Sloan would have tossed one at him, but so far he's just said he had one.
Screw it. He'd worry about all that after the shower.
Rolling his eyes he waddled away to the shower, closed the door behind him, pulled off his underpants and stepped into the shower.
The hot water was bliss. He could feel it trickle down his cold back, soaking his almost unexistant hair and his bare skin. He covered himself in shower gel, pleased to know he would soon be smelling less like manure and more like soap, like normal people smelt like. He dolloped a tiny drop of shampoo on his palm and scratched it into his hair, rinsed it out and then stood for at least another five minutes simply enjoying the warmth.
Once he was happy, he stepped out of the shower, dried himself and pulled on his dark jodphurs. Slighty annoyed he still didn't have a shirt, he poked his head round to notice Sloan wasn't around. He forced himself to walk out again,shuddering slightly at thesudden breeze that wafte through the room, and wandered round to see where the man had gone to.
He found himand leant against the wall coolly, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. "May I have a shirt, now?" He asked with the sarcastic politeness of a naughty schoolboy. "Or am I being punished for something?"
He smirked at this, as if he was being punished for something, for once he wouldn't care. Out of all the things, making himwalkaround topless was not on his 'feared' list.

“Yes, for taking so f*cking long!” Sloan retorted, though he didn’t sound as annoyed as he’d have liked.
He dumped a shirt roughly over Dane’s head.
“There you are, then, Mister Conservative.” He snorted sarcastically. “Have some breakfast if you like.” He gestured toward the kitchen, “There’s cardboard in the cupboards, and rabbit food in the fridge.” He paused a moment to roll his eyes, and added, “F*cking Cheryl and her ‘health food’. Man am I gonna be glad to do my own bloody shopping again! I don’t even care if it gives me heart disease – from now on I’m living on bacon!”
He uttered an enthusiastic bark of laughter – seeming suspiciously happy considering his girlfriend of two years had just left him – and trotted off toward the shower with towel and clothes slung over his shoulder, humming a merry tune to himself on the way.