Wesker let the saddle hit the floor with a thud as he sighed. His blonde locks stuck to his sweat-lined face as he stared at the old and torn saddle for a moment before the creature beside him nickered softly and nudged his shoulder.

"Just one more year," he muttered as he slowly reached up to gently scratch her nose. "Then you get to go out to pasture with ol' Gray."

"Retirement, eh?" Wesker couldn't help the smirk sprouting on his face as he heard Redfield's voice ring out from one of the nearby stalls. "That sounds nice."

"Yeah," Wesker clipped back with a glance over his shoulder as he continued to stroke the mare's face. "She's gettin' too old for me now, decided to hang her out with Jilly's old horse."

"Oh," Redfield cooed. "Charlie's gon' love that!"

"Yeah," Wesker repeated as he bowed his head slightly and murmured. "You will."

Charlie had been his seal-brown horse ever since he was fourteen - that had been twenty-four years ago now. For twenty-four years they had been together, through thick and thin. His unstoppable show pony was an impressive sight of raw muscle and determination - headstrong, yet mysterious like him. Impressive and for an animal that never backed down, Wesker had been proud to call her his.

Sadly, now she was nearing her thirties, and that meant more health problems. He promised her a few more rides out on the country, rounding up cattle and maybe another pair of shows before she officially retired. He despised to think of how bored she would get out on the field all by herself, wasting away in her twilight years - believing that he had just abandoned her. He wouldn't. He loved this mare more than he loved anything else. So when the time came during one dinner, Jill offered to take Charlie in and have her retire with her dappled grey gelding - Gray Sky. Both Charlie and Gray Sky had been phenomenal show horses. They knew each other well, both rider and horses, so Wesker trusted Jill. She had her own ranch and was teaching her girls how to ride. Wesker let it slip that he didn't mind if the girls were careful enough, they could teach themselves how to ride with Charlie. Anything to get the mare back out and give her something to do until that horrible day arrives when they would all have to say farewell to a friend and eventually move on.

Wesker frowned mid-pat as he stared at the mare's neck. He didn't want to think about the future now - it scared him.

"You look contemptuous." He heard a voice that he didn't want to hear as soft, slow footsteps sounded from behind him and the stall gate was soon opened.

Wesker soon snapped out of his thoughts as Charlie reared her head up, ears pinned forward and eyes wide just as her nostrils flared. The taller blonde was quick to reach his hand up and gently stroke her face to calm her down again while his stronger hand held her reigns. "She doesn't like that lab coat," Wesker half-growled, half-grumbled without turning around to look at his partner.

William Birkin, who had been good friends with every Wesker, except for Albert, and a veterinarian here on their ranch. Wesker himself didn't even begin to fathom why they were a thing in the first place. Birkin's snide comments and abrasive attitude were not a healthy beverage for him, but every man picks their own poison, don't they?

He sighed as he finally turned around to face his partner once Charlie was settled again. Birkin was standing at the edge of the stall, and he hadn't even stepped inside it yet when he opened the gate, and stood staring at the mare with an apprehensive look about him. He had his arms folded across his wide chest, though most of his cute, tomboyish figure was hidden beneath the lab coat that he was wearing. His boots were no doubt covered in duck shit and his pants were lined with cat fur - perhaps some of it was even dog. Wesker could've been disdainful and petty about the other's appearance, however, as he felt the heat rise under his shirt, making it tighter, he supposed that he looked just as awful.

"What are you doin' here?" Wesker asked, his eyes shifted away as he reached up to readjust his cowboy hat. It was clear that neither horse nor rider wanted the doctor there; in their personal space. Even the boys knew not to cross that boundary.

"I'm beginning to theorise that perhaps it isn't just the horse that despises my presence." Birkin narrowed his blue eyes at Wesker.

Wesker cringed inwardly at the intellectual use of his words and nasal voice. Birkin always felt so out of place on the ranch and Wesker enjoyed him more when he didn't utter a speak.

"'The horse' has a name," Wesker huffed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "It's Charlie."

"Charlie Deu Crux, yes." Birkin nodded. "Your daddy's little show pony for his golden superstar. Like I said, it's just a horse, now," he stepped back and gestured to the gate. "Are you coming? Dinner is almost ready."

"Is her tack off?" Wesker blinked and hissed as he motioned to the reigns that he was holding. "Kinda irresponsible to just leave her like now ain't it, Doc?" Wesker grinned.
"I mean, what if she gets hurt?" He then slowly moved the reigns over to the side of the stall and pretended as if they had caught onto the window latch. "What'll happen if she gets caught here on this? She'll probably panic, freak out, wrangle herself around 'til her neck is all scarred up an' then she'll be in pain for the next eight hours 'cause she probably couldn't scream due to her windpipe being crushed an' with the amount of blood she'll leave in her stall overnight, attract predators or rats that could chew on her, then she'll freak out an' lash about again 'cause she can't fend for herself but she's actually doing more damage to herself."

Wesker straightened up with a smug smile as he puffed his chest out. "You're not very smart for a vet, Doc. Either that or you think that that kinda death is acceptable for a horse like her. Now, is it true that you wanna kill my horse?"

Birkin scoffed and rolled his eyes as he turned away and shook his head. "No, Albert. I don't think that is a very humane death for any creature, nor do I want to kill said creature."

"Then you jealous?" Wesker grinned as he licked his lips and slowly moved Charlie away from the window. "Come here an' help me strip her down."

"What?" Birkin puffed as he shot back around and stared at Wesker in disbelief.

"Her tack," Wesker nodded at the remains of it still lining his mare. "She doesn't like you 'cause of that coat an' the fact that you won't make an effort to literally like any other livin', breathin', thing aside from yourself."

"That's a falsehood." Birkin narrowed his eyes at Wesker as he was accused of multiple things at once.

"No, it ain't,"

"Stop talking like that, your father sent you to a very prestigious college and this is how you carry yourself around others?"

Wesker thought for a moment. "You know, I used to regret ever meetin' you."

He allowed that to sink in for a moment before he sucker-punched Birkin with his words yet again. "An' then I realised; 'Well, fuck me, Cherry. He's right.' I do need someone makin' sure the chooks are fed, the dog's always with someone 'cause he gets separation anxiety, kinda like how I do. Then the cat needs to know where the rats are so she needs to be let into the barn. Then I went out an' got another 'cause it felt like you were stealin' my girl. I need someone to make sure the goats are fenced in at night an' the ducks aren't havin' free reign over the house while I'm out."

Birkin was quiet as he tried to decipher the gibberish that Wesker was throwing at him.

"Through Hell an' back, no matter how high the water was - you stuck it out with me. No matter how many times I told you to get out an' leave. No matter how many times I said that I was goin' to be fine on my own," Wesker noticed how quiet the stables were now but he continued anyway. "There's only ever been one person who's stuck by my side throughout all those dark times with me an' you need to come an' thank her for all of that. I'm sick an' tired of pretendin' like she's just an animal to you. She's not gon' be here one day an' that scares me, it does, but baby, I need you too."

He watched Birkin's face sour before he swooped in and continued on as he pointed at Charlie.

"Don't - don't push me away when she's gone, Will. She's my best friend. You, of course, have always had that same privilege too. You just too stubborn to know it an' far too cold to let anyone in. See? At least I learned my lesson at those fancy places - my home's here. In the duck shit, the cat fur, the bark of a dog, the wind at my back, my fingers in your hair when she's no longer goin' to be around."

The entire barn was tense and silent for a moment before Birkin sighed quietly under his breath, gave a shrug as he tilted his head, and spoke as he stared down at Wesker's grass-covered boots. "You do have something that aligns with your father; you won't shut up."

"Here or in bed?" The taller blonde grinned like a shark which earned him a wrathful glare.

However, his smile dropped once Birkin came into the stall and slowly reached his hand up to touch Charlie's forehead. Wesker soothed her as he did so, and surprisingly she did not react. Her eyes were wide and her ears pinned forward, yes, but she did not physically react or try to back away. Wesker thought that it was a good sign at least.

"Here," he then handed the reigns over to Birkin. "Hold her while I get it off."

"Huh," Birkin breathed as his own eyes widened. "How?"

"You're a vet, ain't ya?" Wesker reminded him as he slid under Charlie's neck and popped around on her other side. He smiled as he gently scratched her cheek before unhooking the bridle and slowly taking it off of her before he turned and looked at Birkin.

"Well," he shrugged. "That's all it took, was a little teamwork. Nice job, Doc."

Birkin only answered him with a glare, though he was beginning to open up slightly to Charlie and kept his hand gently pressed against her neck.

"Right, shall we feed 'em?"

"The boys can do that," Birkin's eyes shifted over to Redfield and Speyer who were watching them from Bravo's stall with wide grins plastered across their faces. The Chestnut American Paint was halfway through some hay and staring over at them with inquisitive eyes.

"Yeah," Wesker turned to face them. "I think that suits them for being lazy."

The two blondes chuckled as Redfield feinted agony and despair while Speyer rolled his eyes and leaned back with a small groan.

"Right," Wesker turned to Birkin once they had left the stables and gently plopped his sweaty, cowboy hat on top of Birkin's head. "What's for dinner?"

"I'm going to serve your primed buttocks-" Birkin was in the middle of dishing out one of his most eloquent insults when Wesker bent down and kissed him on the lips. Birkin squeaked with wide eyes as he was caught off guard, however, Wesker swiftly leaned away as quick as the kiss had come.

"Great! I wouldn't have it any other way." The cowboy chuckled.