Title: Differences of the Worldly Kind
Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue.
Warnings: Slash, language
Notes: AU
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Sometimes, you wonder how different things would have been if you hadn't decided to take the job.
Sometimes, you wonder how different things would have been if you hadn't been rescued.
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You were young and stupid and reckless when you first met Doc Holliday.
He was the most beautiful and exotic man you'd ever seen when your eyes had met across the saloon. But as the day progressed and you cornered your prey on the outskirts of the tiny one-street town and ended up fucked past the hope of redemption, you remember how that pale and beautiful man showed up out of nowhere and saved your ass with only a single sentence,
"Now I just know you're not gonna kill that man."
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The first time you slept with Doc Holliday, you'd just had another of your many brushes with Death. The both of you went to the nearest saloon to drink off the adrenaline. He paid for the alcohol and a room above the bar.
You remember the two of you with your arms slung around the other's shoulders and the sad attempt to put the key into the lock. You remember the loud creaking of the bed as you stumbled and fell into the mass array of silky soft pillows, pulling Doc along with you. You remember the heavy feeling of Doc's body falling onto yours, grunting as Doc's elbow accidentally dug into your ribs.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Doc repeated, his Southern accent flowing like honey into your ears as he rubbed the sore spot and kissed it playfully.
But then the tender touches began to feel hot, hotter than you've ever felt. Doc's fingers trailed downward and under your shirt, grazing over muscles and flesh and igniting a passion that you've never felt for anyone, not even for the Sandra sisters back home.
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The last time you slept with Doc Holliday, you were on your way to meet up with someone you thought for sure would finally be the one to do you in. The doctor had just left and he told you that chances were that your Southern King wouldn't be able to bounce back from this one and that there was nothing that you would be able to do. You had only nodded
The touches had been slow and hot, the sweat melding your bodies together. It had been almost as special as the first.
-
Josephine sometimes asks about him. Half the time you're not sure what to tell her. Doc Holliday was your second true love--right after Mattie, whom Doc had loathed.
You never told anyone about what went on between the two of you. You remember the first time you introduced Doc to your brothers; they had interrogated him as if he were a witness and they the sheriffs. You had laughed then at Doc's uneasiness though it was later removed under an old oak tree with soft kisses and fluttering touches and meaningless words coated in Southern syrup.
Vergil had been wary of Doc from the beginning, you never had to reveal anything, he just found out on his own. When you asked him how he knew, he said simply that he just knew because he's the older brother and it's his job to pay attention.
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Sometimes, you wonder how different things would have been if you hadn't taken the job.
Sometimes, you wonder how different things would have been if you hadn't been rescued by him.
Lying next to Josephine, staring at the ceiling, you close your eyes and start to dream. You dream of pale skin and alcohol and the man who had the Devil's own luck. You dream of hot hands and loving lips and oh so sweet promises of love and hatred all mixed together in the dangerously sweet poison that eroded away all care and worries.
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