(no subject)
Title: Top Gear Stables
Author: Sonata Night
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing: James/Richard
Summary: James May is a Thoroughbred trainer looking for a job, and he finds himself involved with Jeremy Clarkson, the owner of four horses, and Richard Hammond, Jeremy's exercise rider.
Notes: Well, they do like to go fast - Thoroughbreds are pretty fast. :P If this is terribly OOC, sorry. There have been modifications to their age, although I tried to keep the same distance in ages, which makes an 18 year old Richard and 26 year old James kind of ... interesting to write.
Disclaimer: Fish are friends, not food - Erhm, I mean, all of this is purely from my imagination.
A roar echoed amongst the small crowd huddled around the finish line of Keeneland Racetrack. Among them was a 26-year-old man with long brown hair clutching a racing form in his hand. Just visible was the circled name "Bright White L-" and then the rounded pamphlet disappeared into his fist.
"And dooown the stretch the come, with Kelly Mary and Bright White Light battling it out for the lead! Behind them is Queenly Treasure in third, with Flyaway Lady and Pretty Bella in fourth and fifth respectively. It's a close call, and one of these little fillies is going to prove themselves today in the Arlington-Washington Lassie Stakes."
Kelly Mary, the number two horse, was ahead by half a length, her pale chestnut coat gleaming under the sunlight. Behind her, fighting for the lead with only a furlong to go was Bright White Light, a dark chestnut covered in sweat so that she almost appeared black. On her back was a jockey who looked just as intense as the horse, and he hand-rode her, urging her forward with calls into her ear. Every stride she took brought her inches closer to the lead, till her nose bobbed side by side with the lighter-coloured filly. With a burst of speed, she flashed past the finish line with half her head in front.
"And it's Bright White Light who inches ahead to take the win today!"
"Yes!" The man punched the air, then caught and composed himself. As the horses turned to return to the paddock, Bright White Light pranced along, exhausted but still full of spirit, and her jockey, known only as The Stig (and just as mysteriously dressed in white silks and a small white helmet), - larger than most jockeys at 5'7" inches, but still plenty slender enough to be a jockey - was calm on her back.
As they posed amongst the crowd, the man made his way up to the electronic betting and inserted his ticket. A minute later, forty-odd dollars were spat from the machine. He pocketed the money and then headed for the door. This was the only race he'd come here for, and the rest weren't that important.
His name was James May. He was finally having luck - he was a Thoroughbred trainer who had been looking for a job for about six months now, enough that his financial situation was becoming a bit grim. His luck was about to change even more in a few minutes.
As he threaded his way amongst the crowd to his car, a 1975 Rolls Royce Corniche, he overheard a man speaking into a phone. "But I'm more than willing to - No, please, you have to understand that there is nobody else who I can afford - oh, to hell with you, then!" With a snap, the man closed his phone and shoved it in his pocket furiously. He muttered, "Can't find a bloody trainer anywhere nowadays who's willing to work for a decent fee, not some outrageous expense."
James slowly approached the man. "Erhm, hello?"
The man glanced at him. "What?" His curly grey hair was not cut very attractively, but at 6'5", he was an imposing figure.
James offered his hand. "James May. Hi. I overheard your conversation - you're looking for a trainer?"
"I'm Jeremy Clarkson. And yes, I am, if only I could find one willing to work for six hundred dollars a week. Even these new, barely experienced trainers want something like a thousand dollars a week. And seeing as I just bought four horses, I'll be lucky if I can afford to pay them five hundred for a while." Although he was a horse owner, unlike most of the men who came to the races, he was dressed in jeans.
"I'm a trainer looking for a job. Could I offer my services under the condition that I get to check out your stable and make sure you're a decent fellow to your horses?" James pushed a lock of hair away from his face, knowing he looked slightly disheveled from being outside in the wind.
Jeremy sized up James. "How long have you been a trainer?" He asked. "No, you know what, never mind. I'm not going to question you. I need a trainer and a jockey and as long as you're willing to work for me, I'm willing to let you. And we'll see as we go - if you're a horrid trainer, then I'll just fire you." He said it almost with a slight glee in his voice near the end.
James made a face but followed Jeremy to the parking lot. After he'd driven Jeremy to his car, a Mercedes-Benz 600 - "a gift from my wife", he'd added with a smirk-smile - they were on their way to Jeremy's barn. It was about a half an hour away, and when they arrived, James found himself admiring the small but lovely building, the pastures, and the fact that Jeremy had managed to buy some quality horses, from what he could see of the two horses grazing in the pasture. One threw its head up as the car approached, whinnied loudly, and began to gallop across the pasture. James watched its sleek legs, graceful movement, and saw the spark in its eyes as they passed.
He already knew he wanted to work for this barn.
As Jeremy led him into the barn, he saw the groom leading in the other horse he'd seen outside. A dark blue roan, it snorted at him and eyed him warily, ears going back slightly. The groom hurried forward with the horse.
"Sorry, Midnight Bliss is a tad bit bad-tempered to strangers." Jeremy explained. "He was sort of an accidental buy. I didn't mean to bid on him, but my arm had an odd spasm and jerked up a bit and the caller assumed I was bidding. I wasn't, but nobody else bid on him after me, and so three thousand dollars later, I had a fourth horse instead of three. I'm not sure he's got much in him, but I think he might do alright in smaller races."
"Oh? How old are your horses?"
"Two two-year-olds, two three-year-olds. One of each sex. He's one of the three-year-olds." Jeremy explained. "By the way, that was Jason Dawe, our groom. Our exercise rider is Richard Hammond - you'll meet him later. We just need to get a jockey."
"You don't have a jockey?" James asked. "Is Richard licensed as a jockey?"
"No, not yet." Clarkson responded. "He's actually visiting a couple friends right now but he'll be back in a day. If you'd like, you can stay for dinner and we can discuss where we're going to find a jockey?"
James shook his head. "No, I think I can find you a jockey." The horse he'd bet on earlier was his friend's, and the jockey had ridden for his friend several times. He had a feeling that he could convince his friend to talk to The Stig about perhaps riding for Jeremy, see if they worked out.
It took a bit of convincing, apparently, for the Stig to ride these unknown horses for the unknown trainers, but after about an hour of negotiating through his friend, since apparently the Stig didn't talk. But it was done under the deal that Jeremy let him ride the horses as he see fit for the races. James knew that the Stig was a very good jockey, if not a bit eccentric, and wouldn't let Jeremy down. He would get the best out of the horses.
And it was somehow amazing that James, who had been out of work a day before, found himself with four horses to train, an owner that he was working for, and a jockey to ride for them. He was curious to meet the exercise rider, but he contented himself to go home and enjoy a few glasses of wine, lulling himself to sleep with a gentle buzz.
Two days later, he returned. "Okay, so, here are some tracks that we could look into. Beulah is about three hours away," they were located a bit out of Lexington, Kentucky, "and Hawthorne if you don't mind driving about six hours up to Illinois. Laurel Park is even further, about eight hours away. Then Meadowlands, which is ten hours, Philadelphia Park, and Tampa Bay downs." He'd made the list methodically, in alphabetical order, although he'd contemplated in distance
He was about to say more when a young man, probably in his late teens, came strolling from around the corner and up to Jeremy. "Hey, Jezza. I'm back from my little trip. You got my message that my friend broke his leg and I was in the hospital with him, right?"
"Yeah, I did, Richard."
This was Richard? James bit back a slight gulp. He was definitely attractive. With spiky brown hair, and matching brown eyes, a trim build, and a bright winning smile, James found himself staring at Richard just a bit.
He wondered how Jeremy or Richard would react if they found out that he was gay.
He tried to put that out of his mind and instead focused on Richard. "Well, you're certainly a tall one. Just like the Stig."
Richard raised his eyebrow. "The Stig? You're comparing me to the Stig?" He sounded quite amused. "I mean, I suppose I'm decent enough but I wouldn't say anywhere as near as good as the Stig."
Jeremy broke in. "I meant to tell you - we have our jockey. I think that's what James was bringing up."
Richard figured it out pretty quickly. "You mean we're going to have the Stig ride in our first race?"
"Once we figure out a race to enter, yes, we will. Once we find out how much training we need to do. James, would you like to look at the horses?" Jeremy asked. "They haven't been trained in about a week so they should be pretty high-energy."
James frowned slightly. "Sure, sure," he answered. "Have they been exercised at all? I mean, besides being turned out in the paddock?" He believed in exercising a horse at least once every three to at most four days if they weren't being trained.
Jeremy caught his glance. "I had Jason ride them a bit, but not as strenuously as I would have liked. If Richard had been here, they would have been properly exercised. I'm not neglecting the horses, don't worry. Here, let me introduce you to them."
James followed Jeremy down the aisle towards the first horse.
Author: Sonata Night
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Pairing: James/Richard
Summary: James May is a Thoroughbred trainer looking for a job, and he finds himself involved with Jeremy Clarkson, the owner of four horses, and Richard Hammond, Jeremy's exercise rider.
Notes: Well, they do like to go fast - Thoroughbreds are pretty fast. :P If this is terribly OOC, sorry. There have been modifications to their age, although I tried to keep the same distance in ages, which makes an 18 year old Richard and 26 year old James kind of ... interesting to write.
Disclaimer: Fish are friends, not food - Erhm, I mean, all of this is purely from my imagination.
A roar echoed amongst the small crowd huddled around the finish line of Keeneland Racetrack. Among them was a 26-year-old man with long brown hair clutching a racing form in his hand. Just visible was the circled name "Bright White L-" and then the rounded pamphlet disappeared into his fist.
"And dooown the stretch the come, with Kelly Mary and Bright White Light battling it out for the lead! Behind them is Queenly Treasure in third, with Flyaway Lady and Pretty Bella in fourth and fifth respectively. It's a close call, and one of these little fillies is going to prove themselves today in the Arlington-Washington Lassie Stakes."
Kelly Mary, the number two horse, was ahead by half a length, her pale chestnut coat gleaming under the sunlight. Behind her, fighting for the lead with only a furlong to go was Bright White Light, a dark chestnut covered in sweat so that she almost appeared black. On her back was a jockey who looked just as intense as the horse, and he hand-rode her, urging her forward with calls into her ear. Every stride she took brought her inches closer to the lead, till her nose bobbed side by side with the lighter-coloured filly. With a burst of speed, she flashed past the finish line with half her head in front.
"And it's Bright White Light who inches ahead to take the win today!"
"Yes!" The man punched the air, then caught and composed himself. As the horses turned to return to the paddock, Bright White Light pranced along, exhausted but still full of spirit, and her jockey, known only as The Stig (and just as mysteriously dressed in white silks and a small white helmet), - larger than most jockeys at 5'7" inches, but still plenty slender enough to be a jockey - was calm on her back.
As they posed amongst the crowd, the man made his way up to the electronic betting and inserted his ticket. A minute later, forty-odd dollars were spat from the machine. He pocketed the money and then headed for the door. This was the only race he'd come here for, and the rest weren't that important.
His name was James May. He was finally having luck - he was a Thoroughbred trainer who had been looking for a job for about six months now, enough that his financial situation was becoming a bit grim. His luck was about to change even more in a few minutes.
As he threaded his way amongst the crowd to his car, a 1975 Rolls Royce Corniche, he overheard a man speaking into a phone. "But I'm more than willing to - No, please, you have to understand that there is nobody else who I can afford - oh, to hell with you, then!" With a snap, the man closed his phone and shoved it in his pocket furiously. He muttered, "Can't find a bloody trainer anywhere nowadays who's willing to work for a decent fee, not some outrageous expense."
James slowly approached the man. "Erhm, hello?"
The man glanced at him. "What?" His curly grey hair was not cut very attractively, but at 6'5", he was an imposing figure.
James offered his hand. "James May. Hi. I overheard your conversation - you're looking for a trainer?"
"I'm Jeremy Clarkson. And yes, I am, if only I could find one willing to work for six hundred dollars a week. Even these new, barely experienced trainers want something like a thousand dollars a week. And seeing as I just bought four horses, I'll be lucky if I can afford to pay them five hundred for a while." Although he was a horse owner, unlike most of the men who came to the races, he was dressed in jeans.
"I'm a trainer looking for a job. Could I offer my services under the condition that I get to check out your stable and make sure you're a decent fellow to your horses?" James pushed a lock of hair away from his face, knowing he looked slightly disheveled from being outside in the wind.
Jeremy sized up James. "How long have you been a trainer?" He asked. "No, you know what, never mind. I'm not going to question you. I need a trainer and a jockey and as long as you're willing to work for me, I'm willing to let you. And we'll see as we go - if you're a horrid trainer, then I'll just fire you." He said it almost with a slight glee in his voice near the end.
James made a face but followed Jeremy to the parking lot. After he'd driven Jeremy to his car, a Mercedes-Benz 600 - "a gift from my wife", he'd added with a smirk-smile - they were on their way to Jeremy's barn. It was about a half an hour away, and when they arrived, James found himself admiring the small but lovely building, the pastures, and the fact that Jeremy had managed to buy some quality horses, from what he could see of the two horses grazing in the pasture. One threw its head up as the car approached, whinnied loudly, and began to gallop across the pasture. James watched its sleek legs, graceful movement, and saw the spark in its eyes as they passed.
He already knew he wanted to work for this barn.
As Jeremy led him into the barn, he saw the groom leading in the other horse he'd seen outside. A dark blue roan, it snorted at him and eyed him warily, ears going back slightly. The groom hurried forward with the horse.
"Sorry, Midnight Bliss is a tad bit bad-tempered to strangers." Jeremy explained. "He was sort of an accidental buy. I didn't mean to bid on him, but my arm had an odd spasm and jerked up a bit and the caller assumed I was bidding. I wasn't, but nobody else bid on him after me, and so three thousand dollars later, I had a fourth horse instead of three. I'm not sure he's got much in him, but I think he might do alright in smaller races."
"Oh? How old are your horses?"
"Two two-year-olds, two three-year-olds. One of each sex. He's one of the three-year-olds." Jeremy explained. "By the way, that was Jason Dawe, our groom. Our exercise rider is Richard Hammond - you'll meet him later. We just need to get a jockey."
"You don't have a jockey?" James asked. "Is Richard licensed as a jockey?"
"No, not yet." Clarkson responded. "He's actually visiting a couple friends right now but he'll be back in a day. If you'd like, you can stay for dinner and we can discuss where we're going to find a jockey?"
James shook his head. "No, I think I can find you a jockey." The horse he'd bet on earlier was his friend's, and the jockey had ridden for his friend several times. He had a feeling that he could convince his friend to talk to The Stig about perhaps riding for Jeremy, see if they worked out.
It took a bit of convincing, apparently, for the Stig to ride these unknown horses for the unknown trainers, but after about an hour of negotiating through his friend, since apparently the Stig didn't talk. But it was done under the deal that Jeremy let him ride the horses as he see fit for the races. James knew that the Stig was a very good jockey, if not a bit eccentric, and wouldn't let Jeremy down. He would get the best out of the horses.
And it was somehow amazing that James, who had been out of work a day before, found himself with four horses to train, an owner that he was working for, and a jockey to ride for them. He was curious to meet the exercise rider, but he contented himself to go home and enjoy a few glasses of wine, lulling himself to sleep with a gentle buzz.
Two days later, he returned. "Okay, so, here are some tracks that we could look into. Beulah is about three hours away," they were located a bit out of Lexington, Kentucky, "and Hawthorne if you don't mind driving about six hours up to Illinois. Laurel Park is even further, about eight hours away. Then Meadowlands, which is ten hours, Philadelphia Park, and Tampa Bay downs." He'd made the list methodically, in alphabetical order, although he'd contemplated in distance
He was about to say more when a young man, probably in his late teens, came strolling from around the corner and up to Jeremy. "Hey, Jezza. I'm back from my little trip. You got my message that my friend broke his leg and I was in the hospital with him, right?"
"Yeah, I did, Richard."
This was Richard? James bit back a slight gulp. He was definitely attractive. With spiky brown hair, and matching brown eyes, a trim build, and a bright winning smile, James found himself staring at Richard just a bit.
He wondered how Jeremy or Richard would react if they found out that he was gay.
He tried to put that out of his mind and instead focused on Richard. "Well, you're certainly a tall one. Just like the Stig."
Richard raised his eyebrow. "The Stig? You're comparing me to the Stig?" He sounded quite amused. "I mean, I suppose I'm decent enough but I wouldn't say anywhere as near as good as the Stig."
Jeremy broke in. "I meant to tell you - we have our jockey. I think that's what James was bringing up."
Richard figured it out pretty quickly. "You mean we're going to have the Stig ride in our first race?"
"Once we figure out a race to enter, yes, we will. Once we find out how much training we need to do. James, would you like to look at the horses?" Jeremy asked. "They haven't been trained in about a week so they should be pretty high-energy."
James frowned slightly. "Sure, sure," he answered. "Have they been exercised at all? I mean, besides being turned out in the paddock?" He believed in exercising a horse at least once every three to at most four days if they weren't being trained.
Jeremy caught his glance. "I had Jason ride them a bit, but not as strenuously as I would have liked. If Richard had been here, they would have been properly exercised. I'm not neglecting the horses, don't worry. Here, let me introduce you to them."
James followed Jeremy down the aisle towards the first horse.