harlowcharlton

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: How long til he catches a chill, ain’t that the real question?

↳INSTAGRAM: @sunneshinerae uploaded a photo:

how long until flynn realises I’ve stolen his jacket??? 🙊

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: Always a good time hanging out with you, darlin’ Mav.

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A delicious meal from a handsome guy. Lucky me!

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: Happy birthday, bossman! You have a great day, now ❤️🎈

↳INSTAGRAM: @billymchale a photo:

Birthday bites.

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow liked this.

@howdyharlow: Oh now, this is my favorite sight to see.

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[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: 🙈🙈🙈

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showin’ those city boys how it’s done 😏💃🤠

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: Permission to work the majority of my shifts at the Doggy Cafe?

↳INSTAGRAM: @billymchale a photo:

When Marley stops by with her clients it’s a good day. Thinking of setting up a Doggy Cafe just for all her little guys, what do we think?

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow liked this.

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Look who made it to the Big Apple! Miss Dolly Day! LFG!!!

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: And hot dog, have we missed that southern charm! Welcome to the concrete jungle, Doll x

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bringin the big apple a lil bit of that southern charm it’s been missin!

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: She’ll be reading Oliver Twist before you know it!

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Pros of working for Billy include free books, free coffee, and exceptional meals. Cons of working for Billy mean that little Z has developed an obscenely sophisticated palate and won't take her eggs any way other than Billy Side Up.

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: Such a proud Daddy!

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wow!! can’t believe how big percy has gotten lately 😮 my son is growing up!

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: I am baby girl.

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I ain’t so good at making captions. I’ve got Marley and Poppy at my side yelling suggestions of “he’s so baby girl” and “that’s pookie” but I don’t rightly know what any of it means. I think I’ll just settle for calling him a stud and move on!

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: She made you look real handsome, Mav! No two ways about it.

↳INSTAGRAM: @maverickrojas uploaded a photo:

Ivy took this real artsy photo of me and I sure do love it. She almost made me look handsome. Sweet, talented kid.

[harlowcharlton]

TEXTING: POPPY

Harlow: Happy Birthday, Poppy! Growing up mighty fast on me, aren’t you? Enjoy your break from tour, take a step back and take it all in. And eat lots of cake today, little Miss.

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: @ivy.rogers @raffreyes I was thinking more Wannabe, but sure!

↳INSTAGRAM: @raffreyes uploaded a photo:

Dusting off this old thing.

[harlowcharlton]

@howdyharlow: Do you know any Spice Girls?

↳INSTAGRAM: @raffreyes uploaded a photo:

Dusting off this old thing.

[harlowcharlton]

↳INSTAGRAM: @howdyharlow uploaded a photo:

You can always tell when Miss @annabellebaxter has paid us a visit to the stables. Don’t our girls look lovely?

[harlowcharlton]

At Raff's words, Harlow's eyes widened a fraction. If Rafferty Reyes was a closed book, Harlow was, on the contrary, wide open. He could talk the hind legs off a donkey if you got him going, especially when it came to the things he loved. And Harlow loved horses, had done since he was a young boy and had been allowed to lead his childhood horse, Starlight, around the paddock by her reins, despite being about six years old. His Momma and his Daddy had always trusted the kind temperament of the horses on their farm, and made an effort to make sure Harlow treated them with a healthy dose of respect, rather than fear. Dogs might have been a man's best friend, but Harlow figured horses were his. Still, he had no idea when he'd been whittering on about all of this, Raff had even been listening.

"Yeah, like me and my horses, I guess." he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, an awkward tell of his. It also was funny to think that Rosie took after Harlow in any capacity, "Still, she's so much like her Momma."

Raff's sharp tone brought a blush springing up to his cheeks. It was clear that he didn't see himself as a Father figure in any sort of capacity to the young woman. But truth be told, Harlow was rather close with Ivy, probably a lot closer than he let on. Whilst he was sure most men his age - men cruder and more lecherous than he - would brag about a thirty-one year old warming their bed, the teasing did nothing but make Harlow squirm with embarrassment. Truth was, despite the nearly twenty year age difference, Harlow just really liked the girl. She was more of a friend than bedfellow, making him laugh and showing him all the secret spots of the city only she could uncover. And they talked a lot, about life, about work. He was sure Raff would be surprised to learn how favourably she talked about him when her guard was down.

"Naw, you're good for her. She likes you a lot. You didn't hear it from me though, alright?" he chuckled, preoccupying himself with the bottle infront of him, the label already peeling with persperation.

A yip of surprise was startled out of him, the sound of the smashed glass drawing the attention of not only him, but various other patrons. He doubted a little broken glass was an uncommon occurence in a place like The Black Dog, but people looked up, the flow of conversation seemed to stop as everyone's heads spun this way and that, looking around for the perpetrator.

"Shit, sugar, are you alright?"

Harlow straightened up abruptly, kicking his chair back and sending the beer hurtling across the sticky countertop. He briefly heard Laurel's laughter ringing like bells in his ears. Clumsy oaf, she'd chide, all fingers and thumbs. He doubted any of Laurel's sweet words would be enough to placate Raff now, who was looking at him with a face like thunder, standing amongst the shattered remnants of the glass he'd dropped. His earlier words had meant to be playful, but they had seemed to have the adverse effect, sucking all of the air out of the room.

This wouldn't be the first time this had happened to him, a proposition gone sour. Not that Harlow had been propositioning Raff, not really, he'd just... gotten too comfortable. Fallen into the trap of closeness with the other man. He winced, remembering the way the pet name had fallen from his lips, suddenly finding himself at a loss for words. He'd never taken Raff to be the kind of guy who would be... so malicious when flirted with by a queer man, but the way he'd rounded on Harlow had the palms of his hands sweating and his throat dry.

"M'sorry." he babbled, hands dancing uselessly mid-air as he found himself torn between the desire to run away, and help clean up the mess. "You weren't. I guess, I was flirtin' with you a little bit, and I got carried away."

Something soured in his stomach at the harsh spit of Raff's words, feeling like a damn fool. The other man looked like a spooked horse, nostrils flaring and ready to rise up on his hind legs. Harlow took a step back, his feet trying their hardest to stick to the floor as he grabbed for his coat, a sorry look on his face. Raff was straight, he was married, and he was decidedly not interested.

"I know. Damn, I'm sorry." he murmured, voice low with shame and panic. "I'm not one of those guys, I swear."

Clutching his jacket to his chest, Harlow anxiously added, "I'm gonna just, head off - alright?"

“Takes after you then, huh?” Raff said, perhaps too quickly, when Harlow spoke of his daughter’s love of animals. He didn’t know if that had been too much of a tell or not, all but admitting that he’d paid more attention to Harlow’s own interests than any mention of his little girl. Awkwardly scratching the tip of his ear, he gestured vaguely in Harlow’s direction. “You with your horses and all.”

He doubted that Harlow would take much offence to Raff’s behaviour, the man’s cookie-cutter kindness being one of the most startlingly blunt and unchangeable things that Raff had ever come across. It seemed that he had a nice thing to say about everyone, even grumpy bartenders with shaggy hair and persistent scowls. Raff still wasn’t quite sure what to do with that, no matter the amount of times he found himself face to smiling face with the other man, who looked near-enough pleased to see Raff on every one of those occasions. Not even Ted had been as content to be in Raff’s company time and time again. All in all, Harlow Charlton was an enigma that quite honestly made Raff feel sick to his stomach sometimes.

At least he was capable of saying things that annoyed Raff though, proven by his comment about Ivy.

“How I am with Ivy?” he frowned, not quite understanding. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of being, in any way, something akin to a father in Ivy’s eyes. He was sure she would also meet the suggestion with a revolted, full-body shudder. “Maybe you’ve been drinking too much.”

When it came to Ivy, Raff thought that he had a solid understanding of how their relationship worked. She would delight in getting under his skin, her youthful grin always bordering on more of a smirk as Raff once again tried and failed to hide how much her wicked sense of humour irritated him. The only comfort their dynamic brought him was that it was one of the few constants in his life, Ivy’s presence as a thorn in his side, one of those failsafes that he doubted would ever be upended and turn into something he should be more concerned about.

Something that felt a lot like satisfaction sparked  in his chest when he saw the way Harlow smiled as soon as Raff presented the new beer bottle. However, that same sensation continued to swell until it almost hurt, Raff realising that he had been the reason for the other man looking so happy. It had been a simple act, meant to cheer Harlow up, not act like this. Like Raff had handed him the last bottle of water in the whole damn desert.

Looking away quickly, he busied himself with cleaning up other empty pint glasses when Harlow’s words floated over to him.

“You wouldn’t be flirting with me now, would ya, Raff?”

He dropped one of the pint glasses and winced even before it smashed on the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time a glass had ended up shattered into tiny pieces on the floor of The Black Dog and he doubted that it would be the last, but it was definitely the first time it had happened and it be Raff’s fault. He was more careful than that, prone to shaking his head and cursing under his breath in annoyance when Richard’s frequent clumsiness had Raff ambling towards the cleaning cupboard for the bucket and broom yet again. 

His head flipped up to narrow his eyes at Harlow, checking to see if he’d been wrong this whole time and the kindness of the other man that he’d been internally praising was actually some ruse. He couldn’t see any traces of mockery on Harlow’s face, but the panic and embarrassment that Raff felt at that moment wasn’t helping him be gracious enough to grant the other man the benefit of the doubt and he scowled once more.

“Why would I be flirting with you?” he asked, bluntly, malice licking at his tone the way it often had when Ted would bite back at hecklers after a show, the ones who would throw slurs their way just because they were two men singing together. As if only men who took it up the ass as they had shouted could sing songs as a duo. It hadn’t mattered to Ted that what he and Raff got up to late at night was much more of a condemnation than getting up onstage to sing a song they’d written together, he’d always seen it fit to react with violence anyway. Raff wasn’t going to throw a punch Harlow’s way, wouldn’t dream of it and the thought made him feel nauseous. But he knew how he must look at that moment: wild-eyed with an ugly sneer on his face, like he could blow up at any moment. He was familiar with that because it was how Ted had often looked. Raff hadn’t realised just how much his late friend had rubbed off on him.

“I’m fucking married, Harlow,” he spat under his breath, immediately turning to grab the broom from the closet in the hopes that the burning of his cheeks would die down quickly enough.