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"I like your style, Doc,” Wyatt Earp announced to his poker playing companion.
Doc’s bemused gaze of blue slid its attention back his way.
"I beg your pardon?"
The US Marshall grinned and pointed to the elegantly dressed lady. The woman in question was walking away from the two of them but kept glancing back at Doc, a sultry look of hope in her eyes.
"You deny their advances, and yet, they still want you. They still come back for more. Damn it, Doc! What's your secret?"
Blue cheroot smoke spiraled up through the air in advancement of Doc’s quiet chuckle.
"I cannot deny the truth,” Doc Holliday affirmed. “I am, without a doubt, a tempting specimen of manhood. Irresistible, so I am told."
Wyatt choked on his beer. Catching his breath, he wiped the foam from his mustache. "What? Shit, Doc. I do believe that ego of yours has addled your brain."
Holliday paused in his shuffling of the cards. "Don't you find me irresistible, Wyatt?"
Wyatt sputtered, his tongue tripping over words of protest, the heat of embarrassment catching his face on fire as he tipped back in his chair, utterly determined to ignore his friend's teasing. Turning his attention to his brothers, he listened to their argument over a play at the faro table. It wasn’t long before he was distracted by the same lady who had openly pursued Doc moments earlier. She winked and blew a goodbye kiss to his silent companion.
Wyatt frowned when he saw Doc direct a tender smile at the young lady. Unconsciously, he rubbed his hand over his chest as an unfamiliar twinge of jealousy touched his heart. His confused displeasure increased tenfold when a new femme fatale moved into view, her dainty pout eliciting an acknowledging chuckle from his friend.
Refusing to be relegated to a supporting role in the night's entertainment, Wyatt dropped his chair back to the floor with a little bit more force than necessary. The sound snagged Doc’s wandering attention.
"You know, I just don't understand."
Doc’s deep brooding gaze refocused their regard upon him.
"What don't you understand, my friend?"
Wyatt lost his thought, captivated by Doc’s fingers as they momentarily tangled with his. He shyly withdrew his hand, completely missing the quiet sadness that slipped across the younger man’s face. Shaking his head to clear his confusion, Wyatt reached for the stack of cards and began to deal a new hand of poker. “What I don’t understand, Doc, is this. You could have any woman in this room, hell, in this town, but you just politely ignore them and their flirting. Why, Doc? Why?”
Holliday picked up his cards and silently examined them. Discarding two, he looked up and smiled. “I’m saving myself.”
Wyatt dealt himself three replacement cards. “Saving yourself? For what? Or should I say, for who? A young one? A pretty one? A rich widow who’s done with her grieving?” He threw a coin down on the table.
“Do you really want to know, Wyatt?” Holliday insisted. “Are you truly prepared to hear my answer?”
With a fleeting look at his cards, Wyatt raised his eyes and got caught by his companion’s solemn gaze. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach, a sudden apprehension burning in his chest. “Is the answer gonna change our friendship?”
Holliday leaned forward and tapped his cheroot against the edge of their shared ashtray. He played with his earlier winnings for a few seconds before tossing several coins onto the table, upping the ante.
“I raise. And yes, dear kind and noble friend, my answer will change everything between us.”
As the game advanced, Wyatt found himself watching Doc’s nimble fingers as they played with the gold chain of his pocketed timepiece. He again shook his head, trying to dislodge the bewildering image of those fingers trailing across his own naked skin.
Wyatt cleared his throat and answered the final bet. “Call.”
Holliday turned over his cards, exposing the winning hand. Reaching forward he plucked the cards from Wyatt’s fingers, tossing them down on the table. He briefly squeezed Wyatt’s hand in mock sympathy before gathering up the collection of coins.
“I repeat, Wyatt. Do you want to know the answer to your question?”
Wyatt closed his eyes and took a swallow of whiskey. He realized he knew the answer but refused to acknowledge it. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready for a shift in his reality.
He opened his eyes and looked over at Doc, shamed by the look of hope on the gambler’s face. “Can I wait a bit on that answer, Doc?” The warmth in his friend’s eyes instantly cooled, his answering smile tinged with sadness.
Holliday collected his winnings and stood up. Moving around the table, he laid his hand upon Wyatt’s shoulder. “Time is a luxury I do not have. If you wait too long, the answer may go somewhere you have no earthly access to.”
Holliday pulled his coat on and tipped his hat to his friend. “Good evening, Wyatt. I look forward to our next encounter.”
Wyatt watched the gambler exit the saloon. Within minutes a sudden rush of unfamiliar need had him scrambling out of his chair and walking quickly to the window. His gaze followed the solitary figure of his friend as he slowly strolled in the direction of the town’s hotel.
"Doc? I'm… Hell! I'm sorry, Doc.” His whisper was lost in the rowdy noise of the saloon. Stepping outside, Wyatt gazed off into the darkness, listening to the insistent voice of his inner self.
You know the answer. You always have.
But what about Maddie? My brothers? The people I serve and protect?
Do you honestly care what they think? Are you going to deny what’s in your heart because of their narrow minded, old-fashioned beliefs?
No, but…
But what? What is stopping you from grabbing what could be your last chance at love?
Love? Love Doc?
Be honest with yourself, Wyatt. Do you deny that you’re in love with Doc?
No. I love him.
Then why are you standing here? Go to him. Now.
But…
No more doubts, Wyatt. Time is slipping away, especially for him. Don’t let your insecurities waste what precious months Doc has left. He loves you. You love him. That’s all that matters.
Wyatt straightened his hat and walked across the street. A polite inquiry at the hotel’s front desk directed him upstairs.
Taking a deep, calming breath, he knocked on Doc’s door. The younger man answered the summons, a surprised look flickering across his face once he identified his visitor. Wyatt felt an ache inside himself as he beheld the all too slender beauty of his friend. Doc stood before him, his preparations for retiring evidenced by his touseled hair, his shirtless chest and open trousers barely hanging on bony hips. The man’s most recent bout with consumption had left its mark upon him, and Wyatt suddenly understood Doc was living on borrowed time.
He gently pushed the gambler back inside his room, closed and locked the door. “I think I’m ready for that answer now.”
Wyatt wrapped his arms around the startled man, capturing his lips in a tender kiss of exploration. A shuddering sigh of gladness was kidnapped and then ransomed as Wyatt whispered his query into Doc’s open mouth. “Who are you saving yourself for, Doc? Who’s got hold of your heart?”
A look of love crept across Doc’s face, his eyes darkening with unspoken emotions and needs. Wyatt allowed himself to be pulled down onto the nearby bed, his friend’s thin frame rolling on top of him.
Doc kissed him warmly and deeply, his strangled chuckle music to Wyatt’s ear. His own laughter quickly mutated into lust-filled moans when a surprisingly healthy hardness settled between his thighs.
“Doc, I’m waiting. Who ya saving yourself for?”
Breathless words that no doubt had been caged in Doc’s heart for years were finally set free, and Wyatt snatched them up as if they were the winnings he should have collected instead of lost earlier in the day.
“You, Wyatt Earp. I’m saving myself for you.”
“Damn straight, you are, Doc. Damn straight.”
The end