Another casual touch, sharing food... how much denial can Doc weather before he and Wyatt figure out that they're more than friends?

Doc was definitely having a good time already, but it made his night when he spotted Wyatt. He raised his cigar to wave him over. After introductions, Wyatt said, "I came to let you know we're having dinner at the hotel."

"Oh, I see. Well, you can spare time for a couple of hands, can'tcha? I'll stake you if you need me to." He looked at his pile of loot and laughed. He was at the point of not caring which way a given hand went. It was his night.

"Sit in, mister," Alex urged Wyatt. "We need new money at this table."

"Well... I guess one or two hands won't hurt," Wyatt said.

Doc was beyond pleased.

Joe vacated his chair for him, and Wyatt sat down.

Matthew introduced himself a little more intimately with a handshake that Doc found himself envying. "My brother met you in Wichita. Said you were quite an impressive lawman."

"Exaggeration, I'm sure."

"No exaggeration," Doc contradicted. "Wyatt is quick, smart, and tough. Everything you need in a lawman." I know him. You don't.

Wyatt looked pleased with the description.

I shouldn't let him get a big head, though. "If you can overlook his being an insufferable skirt-chaser, he's a good man, too."

Wyatt's face fell. "Doc..."

The others laughed.

"Five dollar ante this time?" Doc suggested.

The others agreed, some a bit reluctant.

"Say, Wyatt, you think Kate'll like this?" Doc held up the string of beads he had won from Alex earlier.

"Let me see." Wyatt took it from him and studied it a moment. "Looks like an authentic wampum necklace. I saw one back in Iowa that had come all the way from New England. That's where the white ones were made." He handed it back, his fingers brushing against Doc's.

"You don't say!" Doc exclaimed, a little louder than he meant to. Something about Wyatt touching him made everything... more. "How much do you think it's worth?"

"Nothing as currency anymore, but if you like rare and pretty things, I'd say a dollar or two."

Doc was pleased to know he hadn't been cheated when he had counted the trinket as two dollars, not that it mattered much at this point. He was hundreds in the clear.

They picked up their cards and placed their bets. Doc raised the pot by a dollar in spite of having nothing promising in his hand. Only Matthew folded at that point. Doc was pleased that Wyatt stayed in.

Doc exchanged three cards, taking a long shot on a straight, but had no luck. Wyatt raised the bet another dollar, whereupon Alex and Brad both folded.

"I see your dollar and raise you three more," Doc said, smiling at Wyatt with reckless abandon. What'll you do, son? I'm lying through my teeth. He felt almost giddy, waiting to hear Wyatt's choice.

Wyatt stared back at him for a long moment before saying, "Call."

Doc grinned and laid down his cards. "I didn't have a damned thing," he said proudly. He was mainly proud of Wyatt for guessing correctly.

Wyatt laughed as he showed his hand.

God, I love his laugh almost as much as that soft little chuckle... How drunk am I?

It was almost eight when James showed up looking for them.

"Oh... dammit, James, I'm sorry," Wyatt said. "We got carried away."

"Should we just eat here?" James asked flatly, ignoring the apology.

Wyatt looked across at Doc. "How 'bout it, Doc?"

Doc knew James was annoyed, and supposed it was probably his fault. He looked at Wyatt and then back at his hand of cards. "No, we'll eat at the hotel like you planned. Just as soon as this hand's played out."

"All right," James said.

Doc decided to fold early, and Wyatt followed his lead. Matthew took the pot.

"That concludes our business for now, gentlemen," Doc said, pushing his chair back. He finished his drink, scooped up his winnings and went to the bar to redeem his poker chips.

Outside, Wyatt asked, "Why did you fold in that last round? Do you know what he had?"

"Not for certain. I just figured he deserved the chance to win the last round. He's a nice fella. And you want folks to stay friendly with us, right?"

"Yes."

"How drunk are you?" James asked.

"I'm very offended, James," Doc said, but he didn't put much feeling into the words. After all, he had just been wondering that very thing. "I'm scarcely drunk at all."

They talked about their winnings then, and eventually arrived at the Harvey House. James still seemed slightly tense.

"You mustn't blame Wyatt for making you wait," Doc said. "I persuaded him to sit a few hands, and then he got to winning. You know how it is."

James glanced Doc's way as they seated themselves in the hotel's dining room. "Very well... I won't blame Wyatt."

"Fair enough," Doc muttered.

"You've had enough, right Doc?" Wyatt asked.

"Enough what?" Gambling? Whiskey? Or tense conversation?

"Gambling. You won't go back out?"

You're asking a lot, son. "Well, I... sorta planned on it."

Looking at the menu, James said, "I would say let him stay out all night if he wants to, but if we're not all rested tomorrow, it could get us killed."

"He's right," Wyatt said. He was looking at Doc in a way that suggested he wanted to say more but knew better.

Knew better or didn't want to say it in front of his brother.

Doc sighed. Under the table, where James couldn't see from the other side of Wyatt, he patted his friend's knee in what seemed like a reassuring manner in his tipsy state. "All right. For you, boy."

For some reason, Wyatt did not look entirely satisfied with his statement, but he merely leaned over to look at the menu James was holding.

Doc picked up the second menu on the table and blinked at it. He had little appetite. When a waiter came to take their order, he resorted to taking the waiter's recommendation of beef tenderloin with potatoes and green beans. He decided, since he already seemed to be splurging on the most expensive entree on the menu, to offer to pay for the others' meals. Maybe that would get James past being sore at him.

The conversation gradually picked up as James and Wyat got reminiscing about the good ol' days. Doc was becoming comfortable with this tendency of theirs, even though it made him long for memories of his own. He mostly listened, interjecting only when he needed clarification or could add to the amusement.

Finally, he said, "If you boys are finished, I'll pay our bill."

"You're paying for all of us?" James asked.

"I had a lucky night and I'm feeling generous."

"Are you not going to eat the rest of that beautiful steak?" Wyatt asked, eyeing Doc's plate.

"This is more than a steak," Doc said, drawing himself up loftily. "This is beef tenderloin. And no... I haven't much appetite. You're welcome to it."

There was a rather awkward silence before Wyatt said, "You don't eat enough, Doc. You need your strength for tomorrow."

If things continued in this vein, the others would start nagging him, babying him, or shaming him into eating more, and any of those conditions would make the most delicious food in the world taste like paper to him. Doc sighed and took up his knife and fork. "Just a little more," he muttered. It was an example of culinary excellence... not the loin's fault at all, nor the chef's. Doc managed to get a few more bites down while the others grasped at conversation, trying not to let the silence reign until Doc put his cutlery down again. "Satisfied?"

Wyatt nodded and reached over with his fork to spear what remained of the tenderloin. "Go ahead and pay up." He cut off a bite of meat and tasted it. "Damn, I should have ordered this."

"Help yourself," Doc muttered as he raised his hand to get the waiter's attention. When he turned back around, James was smirking at him. "Is something amusing?"

"Letting Wyatt eat off your plate," James said, his smile growing. "You're officially part of the family."

Doc found himself chuckling. He looked at Wyatt enjoying his food and felt that warmth in his chest that was becoming almost too frequent to ignore, particularly since the alcohol was wearing off. Well, maybe it's feeling part of the family, as James said. It's been a long time since I felt that. Satisfied for the moment, he paid their bill.

It won't last, Doc told himself as he laid out his things for the following day. People change and move on. You drift in and out of their lives. It's not as if they'll invite you to meet their folks at Christmas time. You'll remain friends, but what does that mean when you're a hundred or a thousand miles apart? He was getting too attached, he decided. He couldn't explain, even to himself, why it had happened. After all, he had saved Wyatt's life, not the other way around. He owed him nothing. He needed to stop this nonsense of interfering in Wyatt's business, trying to keep an eye on him, and... obsessing over the way he laughed. He was embarrassing himself.

As a matter of fact, he was just about letting Wyatt Earp tame him, and that was well and truly disgraceful. He went to the door between their rooms and knocked. As soon as he heard an answer, he opened the door.

Wyatt and James were getting undressed, down to their trousers and undershirts at this point. Doc didn't quite consciously register his own envy when he saw the musculature of Wyatt's arms.

"Have a good night, you two," he said.

"Good night, Doc," James replied.

"Good night..." Wyatt said, sounding like he just might say more.

Doc nodded and ducked out the door again. Then he strapped on his holsters, grabbed his jacket and hat, and neatly and quietly stepped out his front door and locked it.

"Going somewhere?"

Doc turned slowly. There, in the hallway outside two-fifteen, stood Wyatt bloody Earp.

Doc stood incredulous for a moment. Then he said, "I didn't want to disturb you."

"You're going back to the Chuck-a-Luck."

He shrugged. There was no point in denying it. "It's silly to quit when you're winning. In fact, it's sort o' rude." Why's he look so damned upset?

"I really thought you wouldn't lie to me."

Oh. For a moment, Doc nearly lashed out angrily. I'm not yours to keep on a leash! he wanted to say. But whatever justification he had, the fact remained: he had told Wyatt he wouldn't go back out. He felt his body break out in a fresh sweat. Damn it. "I wouldn't tell you a lie I thought would bring any harm to ya," he said softly. "That's the honest truth."

"This is going to bring harm to you."

Doc's eyes narrowed. "You gave me your word too, you may recall?" You agreed not to talk about my condition.

"'For you.' That's what you said to me. Did you mean it?"

Why the hell did I say that? Doc sighed. "Yes, boy. I meant it." He turned back to his door and unlocked it. He opened it a crack and then looked back at Wyatt. "How did you know?"

Wyatt shrugged. "I don't know. You just didn't look like you were about to try to sleep. And by the way, you didn't quit while you were winning. You threw the last hand, remember?"

"Hm. Good night, Wyatt... Don't worry - I'll really go to bed this time."

It took a little too long, but finally Wyatt said, "All right."

As Doc closed his door behind him, he knew that Wyatt was forcing himself to trust him. And it might be his last chance. If he broke his word now, he would be nothing more than a liar. Silently, somberly, he hung up his gun belts and got undressed. Granada would have to carry on without him until they were on their way home again.

As you may recall, this isn't the first time Wyatt has eaten off Doc's plate - see chapter 8. I wonder if this will become a habit.

Being a good boy is hard when you've been on your own for several years with the only person looking after you being someone who indulges all of your worst habits. I like Kate a lot, but she is not so good for him... LOL