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Even if Asher didn't realise it, Ray was just trying to help. As much as he disliked him smoking, Ray hated seeing him so stressed and unsettled all the time even more. So while he couldn't in good conscience encourage Asher to puff his merry way to cancer town, he was willing to try other options.

Even if one of those options involved him getting repeatedly hit in the head.

"Rules. Number one, nothing below the belt." Ray ducked under the ropes and into the ring. "Nothing unpleasant anyway. Rule number two, I'm walkin' outta here with all of my teeth still inside my mouth, okay? And number three," he bashed his boxing gloves against his skull, "no making fun of my head guard."

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"You look ridiculous," Asher said, standing in the center of the ring. He assumed that his comment had been keeping with the rules since he hadn't actually made any mention of the head guard directly.

When it came to boxing, Ray was safety first, fashion never. Even more so today given how ready to blow he thought his opponent was.

"Added incentive for you to take a swing. I'm just that thoughtful," he replied, keeping back and circling a little. "Also, that counts as making fun. I was gonna give you a free hit but now you've lost that privilege."

"I don't need handouts," he insisted, following Ray's movements, his hands still down at his sides. He really didn't like the gloves and felt about as comfortable in them as a dog would in shoes.

"Maybe you should swing first. You're good at that."

Judging by his stance, Ray figured Asher was either feeling particularly confident or he wasn't really into it.

"You might not need handouts but you do need tips. Hands up here, rockstar." He lifted his gloves near his head by way of example. Ray knew it wouldn't be easy to wind Asher up enough to take a swing just by talking to him, despite how annoying Asher always claimed him to be.

He moved closer, more focused now it had actually begun. "I'm good at a lot of things."

"Name five," Asher challenged, mimicking Ray's current posture. "I'll be the judge of whether you're actually any good at them, or if you're just overly confident in your own abilities."

"Sometimes your judgement's off," Ray told him, ducking slightly to practise. If it threw Asher off kilter too, that would be an added bonus. "But I'll still play."

Lots of thing came to mind but Ray went with the most obvious first. "One. I'm good at frustrating you," he said, sending a jab towards Asher's ribs.

He thought his judgment was pretty spot on, actually. He might have been a bit biased, though.

Recoiling after the hit, Asher recovered quickly and followed with a punch of his own. "Being annoying as fuck is not something most people would boast as a talent," he said.

"Next."

Ray had to admit that getting punched by Asher with gloves on was definitely not as unpleasant as the alternative. He was pretty sure that deep, deep down he still had bruises from the last time Asher's bare fist had connected with him.

Stepping back to collect himself, he watched Asher carefully, trying to predict what he might do.

"Next is my unparalleled ability to get under your skin."

"How's that any different from the first one?" Asher asked. "You already run out before making it to two?" It was sad, sure, but not very surprising. He did think Ray would have at least made it as far as three, though.

"This is stupid. I feel about as dumb as you look."

As soon as Asher said he felt stupid, Ray swung a hard right hook straight at his head. He guessed Asher had to feel worse before he could start to feel better.

It took Asher a long moment to shake off the unexpected blow. Once he was seeing only one of Ray again, he knew where to direct his anger.

"What the fuck is your problem?! You're wearing the idiotic hat, not me!" Asher yelled, sending two quick jabs to Ray's chest.

"Whoo, that felt good," Ray half-laughed as Asher recovered. He was eating his own words a second or two later, the wind knocked out of him. He felt the rope against his back and he brought up his gloves in defense, buying himself a moment to catch his breath.

"I'm not the one with the problem!" He insisted, shoving Asher away from him. Given that he'd just broken one of the only three rules of the game, Asher shouldn't have been surprised when Ray rushed him head first.

Asher braced himself for the impact, latching onto Ray with one arm while the other laid in with a series of blows. "You are! Now quit it!"

When Ray had first had the idea to box, he'd been a lot better at it in his head compared to the reality now unfolding inside the ring.

All he could do was keep pushing in an attempt to knock Asher off his feet. That and swipe out a foot intended to trip him up. It wasn't gentlemanly but it wasn't against the rules either.

Asher might have gone down, but his grip on him didn't let up and he took Ray with him.

"How is that a legal move?!" He yelled, pummeling Ray in the helmet.

In one respect, this was a complete success - getting repeatedly punched in the head is exactly how he envisioned today going. On the other hand, Ray was pretty certain Asher was more stressed now than before they'd started, which was sort of an outcome he hadn't expected.

"It's not! Get pissed!" He encouraged, doing his best to curl into a ball and cover his head for safety. His voice was muffled and breathless. "You just keep hitting until you feel better."

Or until Ray passed out.

Asher had been pissed since the blow to the head, so if that had been Ray's goal then he'd reached it fairly quickly.

"You're even dumber than you look!" Asher hissed, but as dumb as he thought Ray's idea was it didn't stop him from hitting him. It wasn't making him feel any better, but he thought maybe there was a small chance that one of those punched would be the one that knocked some sense into the other man.

The blows stopped abruptly once Asher's arm started to get tired, and he shoved Ray off of himself.

Ray stayed curled up for a moment or two after Asher had pushed him off, just in case the other man found a spare reserve of energy and decided to expend it on Ray again.

"..........do you feel better?" he asked, slowly uncovering his sore head to look at him.

"No," he replied, struggling with one of his gloves as he tried to get it off. "I feel like I was hit in the head and then tackled by a scrawny Italian guy."

Ray had taken more punishment than he had, but he figured he deserved it. Not only had this all been his idea, but he'd also been the one who jumped from boxing to football in a matter of minutes.

"How do you feel?" Asher asked, throwing the glove at Ray's head once he'd managed to remove it.

Ray grunted in disappointment at Asher's answer, making a noise of exertion as he rolled over onto his back. He stared straight up.

"Like you just kicked my ass six ways from Sunday." And then added insult to injury with the scrawny comment.

He batted the glove away, then draped a tired arm over his forehead. "You were supposed to feel better. De-stressing you was the plan."

"You sure getting your ass kicked six ways from Sunday wasn't the plan?" Maybe he should have changed it to that just to save face.

"If it helps, I did forget what I was stressing out about while I was focused on bashing your head in."

It was something.

"...really?" That earned Asher half a smile. "That does actually help."

Not physically but his head didn't need much more than a few aspirins and some TLC to recover.

"Y'know." Even before he began, Ray knew Asher wouldn't want to hear it. He kept his voice low. "Sooner or later you gotta find a way to stop stressing about it altogether. It's not healthy."

Edited 2014-03-25 02:03 (UTC)

"Later," Asher said. When he got his way, maybe. Which might have been right around never, but he wasn't going to tell Ray that.

"And stop fussing about my health." He was well aware of his mortality without Ray's constant reminders. He couldn't stress, he couldn't smoke to deal with the stress - there was just no winning.

Removing the second glove, he dropped it onto Ray's stomach and stared upward from his spot on the floor of the ring.

"I care," Ray retorted, letting out a feeble laugh a moment later. "Only you could make that sound like a bad thing."

"Well, stop. Or dial it back. Or maybe you should just take up smoking with me," he suggested, though he doubted Ray would take him up on the offer. "Matching lung cancer. It's romantic."

"Don't even joke," Ray replied, pushing the gloves off his stomach and lifting himself onto his elbows. As much as he hated the smoking, what he hated more was the worry that came with it. And not just about Asher's lungs, either.

"How's your blood pressure? Stress can cause heart attacks, you know. Completely outta the blue. When was the last time you had a general health examination?"

"I don't know? Before you showed up? I think." Back when he and Stephen had been attacked by a fucking bear.

"You send my blood pressure through the roof all the time. Why are you only now concerned about it when something else is responsible for it?"

"Are you serious?" Ray's voiced rose several notches and he pushed all the way up, looking down at Asher incredulously. "That's more than four years."

Asher was practically a ticking time bomb. His Grandpop had been a worrier, right up until he developed dementia. At this rate, Asher was going to make Ray sick as well as himself.

"You're used to me." Ray thought he was actually pretty low maintenance but whatever. "All the stuff with Del and the kids though, that keeps building and building. I see it. You should get checked out again."

"Are you asking me to see a doctor or a shrink?" Asher asked. He wasn't an expert at this sort of thing, but he didn't think bringing up the source of the stress was conducive to making someone stress less.

"Is this supposed to be you dialing it back?"

Ray might have lost the boxing but clearly the fight wasn't over. He rolled onto a gloved-hand and knee, then threw a leg over Asher's midriff and straddled him for an unmistakable advantage.

"I'll dial it back after you get a medical," Ray promised, more than happy to make that compromise. Whether or not Asher was as willing, he'd have to wait and see.

"And yet another illegal move," Asher said, although this one was much more pleasant than the last one had been.

"I'll consider it after you dial it back."

Ray needed more than that and he knew Asher knew that. He also knew Asher was fully aware that if he refused, Ray would dial it right back up again, a hundred times worse than now. He'd grown up in a house filled with women - if there was one thing Ray'd learned how to do well, it was nag.

"How about I bash you in the face so hard that you have to seek medical help?"

Ray figured that was the sort of option Asher would give him were the roles reversed.

"If you're trying to turn me on it'd probably be easier without the marshmallow on your head." He knew that wasn't actually Ray's goal, but it was hard to be serious when Ray looked the way he did and was straddling him in the middle of a boxing ring.

"Also? You and I both know you're not going to do that. You'd end up more injured than me in the end, and I don't think you're that dumb." Close, maybe, but not quite.

"That's not why I wouldn't do it," Ray replied, not even partially amused by anything Asher had said. Fear of retaliation played no part in whether or not he smacked Asher in the face. Trying not to be violent towards those he said he loved did. Boxing match aside...

"I'll take off the helmet if you let Coop check your lungs and your blood pressure," he bargained.

"So... if I say no you're just going to walk around with it on forever?" That might have been a bit more amusing if Asher didn't have to be seen in public with him on a daily basis.

"My lungs are probably in better shape than yours. I didn't start smoking until well after I was turned, and vampires can't get lung cancer. You, on the other hand, lived in a major city for your entire life. Who knows what the hell you've breathed in over the years."

A glove zeroed in on Asher's stomach, punching him gently. Ray got the feeling he wasn't taking this as seriously as he ought to be.

"Maybe all the bad effects got released into you when you turned human and now you're more susceptible," he argued. He highly doubted Asher could counter-act that statement with scientific evidence proving otherwise.

"Look, it's real simple, Asher." He leaned over him, looking him in the eye. "I'm worrying about you. If you want me to stop and shut up about it, you'll see Coop for a check up."

"Worrying?" Asher echoed, rubbing at the spot Ray had just hit. "Sounds to me like maybe you need a check up from Coop. Hit me one more time and there won't be any maybes about it"

Ray huffed out a sigh just above Asher's head. "Why d'you have to make things so hard? If you're right about being fine, you get to say 'I told you so' right after seeing him."

Asher loved saying that, so Ray hoped the incentive would be enough.

"Win-win for you."

"Where's the fun if I just roll over and say yes?" Asher replied, quirking a brow. There might have been a time and a place for just that response, but this didn't seem like one of them.

Sitting back up, Ray stripped off the gloves and started to take off the head guard too.

Threats hadn't worked, nagging hadn't worked, bargaining hadn't worked and guilt-tripping hadn't either. He wasn't holding out much hope of 'fun' working after all of that but he'd try, at least.

Dropping the head guard on the floor, he rubbed his hands on Asher's stomach where he'd hit him just before.

"Fun could persuade you...?"

"Might," Asher said noncommittally, shrugging a shoulder.

"Or not. I know that it couldn't hurt to try." No more than beating each other up had, anyway.

Ray knew he was getting played.

He pushed his hands up to Asher's chest to steady himself as he leaned back down. Sometimes he and Asher had different ideas of fun and in this case, playing dumb was one of Ray's.

"Scrabble...?"

"Otherwise known as the lamest board game in history," he said, moving his hands to rest on Ray's thighs.

"Upwords. All the boredom of Scrabble with a twist."

"Only one problem with that," Ray whispered as if to let Asher down gently. "We don't have Upwords."

Perhaps the boredom of Scrabble would be enough of an incentive for them to make their own fun. Ray still didn't rate his chances of persuading him though, if a crappy board game was all he had up his sleeve.

"Great. Just when I thought the day couldn't get any worse," Asher drawled, not bothering to actually hide the fact that he wasn't really too torn up about it.

"We'll figure something out."

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