The Shunning - 3. Chapter 3

"Hand all healed?' Daryl asked Steven the third week of their daily sessions.

"Yeah... looks like the cut is going to leave a scar for me to remember it by," Steven grunted between sips of his morning coffee.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Don't worry about me... this is your hour."

"But all we seem to do is talk about me," Daryl complained.

"It's called professional detachment. Surely you were taught that in med school."

"Everyone here seems to think I got a PhD in it."

"Is that true?"

"Maybe," Daryl admitted. "Quite frankly, though, I don't see why anyone would want to get to know me in the first place."

"You are the archangel," Steven said before he could stop himself. From the way Daryl was now glaring at him, he knew Dr. Gavin still did not like that nickname. "Sorry... I forgot, but you have to admit... after saving the lives of five people whom others have declared dead is a pretty remarkable feat. It's one of the reasons why I respect you."

"Saving lives is what doctors are supposed to do." Daryl shrugged. "I'm sure that in your own practice you've helped rescue people who might have ended up killing themselves or others."

Squinting from a sudden twinge of guilt triggered pain, Steven closed his eyes for a second. "We're not here to talk about me," he repeated.

"I'm sorry." Daryl apologized. "It's just..."

"Yes?"

"Never mind... it's not important."

"Not important in that it's not important? Or that it is on the long list of things you don't want to talk about."

"I don't want to talk about it," Daryl replied, as he tried to look to see what Steven was scribbling down.

"You really think I'm going to let you see what I am writing?" Steven chuckled. "That would be the same as you letting your patient's see their charts."

"I'm a doctor... I'm not used to not being able to read other doctor's notes."

"Well get used to it." Steven said as he held the pad close to his chest.

"Sorry," Daryl apologized again, biting the nail of his thumb.

"Relax Dare... I'm not going to bite your head off."

"Stop calling me Dare."

"Not going to happen." Steven smiled widely.

"Is giving your clients annoying nicknames part of your way of keep professional distance?"

"No... not really. You're the first."

"Lucky me," Daryl sighed.

"See... you are getting better. Three weeks ago you would have just glared and not said a word."

"I'm trying," Daryl said sarcastically.

"Good... then I think we are ready for the next step."

"Oh?"

"Yes... I think you should invite me to dinner."

"Now that is definitely not something I would call professional detachment."

"Still, I would like you see where you live."

"I think you know how I live... if not you must be deaf for it is all the nurses are gossiping about... that, and which one of them is going to sleep with you first."

"You've put money into the pot?" Steven asked curiously.

Daryl shrugged. "A dollar."

"Not a big stakes gambler?"

"No... not part of my religious beliefs."

"I've noticed you seem to have a lot of those. When are we going to finally talk about what kind of church you belong to?"

"Not any time soon," Daryl said, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall.

"Are we out of time already?" Steven said in mock surprised.

"Seems so."

"Alright. Then I will see you later tonight... does nine sound ok?"

"I never said..." Daryl started to argue.

"I know your address Dare, so unless you plan on selling your house and moving in the next five hours, I'm going to be at your door."

"But!"

"Doctor's orders," Steven said sternly just as Daryl's pager went off. "Seems like I've kept you over. Better get going."

"Finally," Daryl sighed, leaving the office.

An hour later, just as he finished making his rounds, Steven received a phone call. "Hello?"

"It's me... Tim."

"Hey... what's up?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you. Did you know Dr. Gavin just called in sick?"

"No... he seemed perfectly fine when I saw him. Is he ok?"

"That's what I want to know. In the six years that man has worked here he has never called in sick... even when it was obvious he was."

"Ahhh... I see. I think I know what's wrong," Steven laughed.

"Please tell me," Dr. Richardson demanded.

"I think it's his nerves."

"Aren't you the one who's supposed to make sure that doesn't happen?"

"You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs," Steven said defensively.

"Just make sure he comes out an omelet and not a plate of scrabbled eggs," Tim warned.

"Trust me... I have everything under control."

"So what is it that has our archangel stressed out?"

"He and I have a dinner date... at his place."

"But there is not even a stove at his place from what I understand," Dr. Richardson said, concerned.

"Now I have given him a reason to get one. I mean, unless there is something I don't know, he's not spending his money on anything. If I were to guess what Dare is doing right now, it's that he's rushing to the nearest Best Buy or furniture store to see if he can try to make his living situation seem halfway reasonable."

"I hope you're right. Still... is having dinner with one of your patients professional of you?"

"He's not really left me with much of a choice. As far as I have determined through the limited subjects he's been willing to talk about he has no social life, no friends, no family that's he's willing to speak about. He doesn't date and doesn't go out to bars or clubs. His life is just a repetitive cycle of going between work and home."

"Sad isn't it?"

"Yes," Steven agreed. "For all I know, I am the only person he talks to who has no connection to his job."

"Just don't let me find out you're dating him," Tim warned. "You can if you want but you need to warn me. Might do him a hell of a lot of good. From what I remember of you in med school... he's just your type. I just don't know if he's gay. Hell... he could be a 32 year old virgin for all I know. "

"I know... sometimes I think I should stop trying to be his doctor."

"You got it that bad for him?"

"I've been having dreams." Steven admitted.

"I see... then I think I should let you in on a secret," Tim chuckled. "The bet on Dr. Gavin is still going on."

"How big is the pot?" Steven asked, thinking it had to be only a few hundred dollars.

"That's the interesting part... as it stands now it's over ten thousand dollars."

"What? I thought I was doing well at an even thousand. How did Dare's get so big."

"Because every year for the past six years almost everyone in the hospital adds some money to the pot," Tim explained. "It's now seen as a mercy fund since everyone believes he must suck in bed."

"Still ten thousand dollars is ten thousand dollars, but I don't see any of them fighting each other to get at Dare."

"After six years of trying everyone's given up. The staff put money into the pot now, not because they think they can win, but just to continue what has become a sad joke."

"Does Dare know how much money is now on him?"

"I'm sure he does, but I've never heard him talk or joke about it."

"Well... this makes it more interesting," Steven chuckled.

"Of course if you really think you have a chance at collecting you'll need to put some money into the pot first," Tim warned.

"Sure... who do I give the money to?"

"As it would so happen... that person would be me," Tim laughed.

Three hours later, and a hundred dollars lighter, Steven was rushing home to pretty himself up. Not that he planned to jump Daryl's bones that night. He wanted to take his time with this seduction.

Patrick certainly guessed something was up when his nose caught the sent of one of his own expensive colognes. "Hey... that's mine! Do you know how expensive that shit is?" He said as he barged into the dressing room they both shared.

"It's a special occasion,." Steven said evasively.

"Really... does that mean you will actually have dinner before you fuck whoever you are going out to see?"

"No... I'm off to see a patient."

"Wearing a red silk shirt that is one size too small for you, black leather pants, and a cologne which is described as `ravishing'?" Patrick smirked.

"He will not always be my patient," Steven said defensively.

"At least promise me he's not married," Patrick pleaded.

"No... he's not married, but he might be a virgin."

"Oh God... why do I sense another migraine headache coming on?" Patrick moaned.

"You better not be," Steven said, knowing that if his twin got one, more often than not he would get one as well. "Don't worry Patrick, I promise to be on my best behavior."

"That's what you always say. Remember your conference in Brazil... you brought back crabs."

"How can I... you'll never let me forget."

"Someone has to act as your conscience," Patrick smirked.

"I won't sleep with him until I stop being his doctor. I promise."

"Really?" Patrick asked, skeptically.

"Yes, I promise even though this is all conjecture. No one knows if he's even gay. As I said... he might be a virgin," Steven said.

"But you're sure to have fun finding out. Just remember to keep Jr. under wraps."

"You think getting out of these leather pants is easy?" Steven laughed.

"They would be if you would just buy the right size," Patrick pointed out.

"But the smaller size shows my ass off better," Steven pouted.

"Don't I know it," Patrick agreed, squeezing both cheeks of his brother's firm butt.

"We will continue this later," Steven promised, even as he felt himself harden.

"Promises, promises... you're just full of them today," Patrick laughed.

"This is one promise you know I will enjoy keeping though," Steven said before lightly kissing his twin.

"That's what I'm counting on."