He turned away from Maverick, just in time to conceal the growing smile on his face at the other man's compliment. Honest, he didn't think he'd ever be able to receive a kind word from Maverick without blushing. With his head ducked, he slipped into the shaded confines of the stable, saddling up Joker with the kind of speed and ease that only came with repetition. Joker wasn't his horse, but Harlow knew him well enough. Anyhow, he was pretty sure he could saddle up a horse blindfolded. It was in his nature, like his Mama's sweet demeanour or his Dad's gentle hands.
He clambered onto the horse with ease, settling into the worn leather of the saddle, Joker tossing his head as he did so. Joker was often sullen and stubborn, clobbering the door of his stable when agitated and honest-to-God sulking when he was saddled up. But not for Harlow. For Harlow? He rode like a goddamn dream. The ladies who owned the stables often remarked how Harlow had a particular way with him, what they didn't know that every now and again, when Harlow was mucking out ol' Joker's place, he'd slip him a sugar cube. Their little secret. Besides, he had a soft spot for the guy.
"Alright, let's go, bud." he drawled, leaning in close to murmur in his horse's ear, a hand comfortingly stroking down his long neck.
He wasn't sure if the cry that split the dry, humid day in two came from his own mouth or Maverick's. It felt like he watched the other man fall in slow motion as his horse reared backwards, Maverick falling hard and heavy on the hard packed earth beneath them. There was a noise that made Harlow feel sick to his goddam stomach - a crunch, or crack or fucking something - and then Maverick lay torturously, horrifyingly still.
Joker took two sharp, unstable steps backwards, veering back from Evelyn so rapidly Harlow thought he might unseat him. He felt the horse lurch underneath him as he threatened to rear up, Harlow's heart in his throat as he searched for Maverick amongst the dust the two horses had kicked up. The inside of his palms chafed against the reigns as he gave a sharp, swift tug, settling Joker back onto four legs.
"Mav!" he yelled, voice gruff and harsh and unlike his own, worry and efficiency and care all spilling forward in a garbled cry. It tore from his throat, coated with terror as Harlow's feet hit the ground on shaky legs.
Harlow'd seen other riders take their fair share of tumbles before. Horse riding was a dangerous past time even done recreationally, it didn't take much spooking for even the most temperate horse to throw a rider. But he'd never had it happen on his watch, and on his horse.
His fumbling hands caught Evelyn's reins, pulling him away from the prone figure of Maverick before he fell to his knees, hand blindly spanning the width of his back, the other pushing his hair back from his brow.
"Sweetheart, good God." he lamented, watching as Maverick's face contorted in pain. "Fuck, Mav."
His brow creased in concern, hesitant to move the other man as he loomed over him, Harlow paralysed with fear.
"Shit, baby. I think it's as good as broken." he murmured, noting the way Maverick's good hand curled instinctively around his arm. "I saw you land funny. Goddamn, I'm so sorry."
If Maverick had been of sounder mind, he might have found it in him to be charmed by the soft utterance of baby that had fallen from Harlow’s lips. Heck, he would have had a whole lot to say about the heroic way the other man had demounted his horse and raced to the rescue, stumbling to Mav’s side with all the urgency of the protagonist in a romance movie. He was distantly aware of both of those truths, but the pain searing through him right now was taking precedence. He simply whimpered, head thudding against the floor of the stable as he tried to will the pain away. Maverick was ill-equipped for broken bones, having long since seen the end to such injuries after he’d moved out of Texas.
Harlow seemed anxious, even as he knelt at his side, worry etched across his features. Maverick figured now would probably be a good time for him to slip into Teacher Mode, even if the agony of his arm was making it a heavy feat. But he couldn’t have Harlow looking at him like that, helpless and afraid. No doubt the other man was blaming himself for what had happened, as opposed to the seemingly harmless bird that had spooked Evelyn to begin with. Not that Mav wanted him to go yelling at birds or anything.
“I think you might be right, darlin’,” Maverick agreed pathetically, the words coming out as a sharp hiss. His teeth were gritted as he tried to steady the ache in his arm, to find a way to make it more manageable until he could find accommodations for it. “I reckon I might need to see a doc.”
Against his better judgement, he tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but his efforts were rendered useless. He let out another cry of pain, feeling his shoulder seize up as he tried to readjust himself more comfortably. Using his good arm, he propped himself up just enough to lean his back against the other man, feeling Harlow’s sturdy thighs unintentionally act as a pillow to the small of his back.
“How about you go ahead an’ call 911 for me there, darlin’?” Maverick asked, trying with all his might to keep his tone as light as he could. He didn’t want to sound one bit ungrateful, not when none of this was his fault.
Maverick waited patiently as everything fell into place, doing his best to keep still and not jolt his bad arm. He would feel pretty rotten if he worried Harlow further. The time wiled away with Harlow eventually pushing to his feet – steady and with great caution – as he sought out the paramedics and showed them where to find Mav. By the time they were at his side, they were on hand with a sizeable cannister that they claimed had Maverick’s name all over it. Even through the fog of his pain, he could remember seeing Wardo’s eyes light up a good 15 years ago after he’d been handed the gas and air tank, a little too giddy to press his face to the mouthpiece after he’d gotten himself into one of his infamous scraps. Mav hadn’t ever expected to find himself in this position, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just as eager to get some bit of a relief.
“Aw, heck. I could get used to this,” Maverick slurred as he inhaled. His cheeks seemed to warm, a throaty giggle escaping him as he pulled back. His gaze drifted to Harlow above him as the medication kicked in, a dopey smile stretching across his features.
