When he had set up the doctor's appointment. Derek had not really been thinking straight. In his mind's eye, he had been imagining just showing up, nodding at the doctor. The doctor nodding back, and then passing him a bottle of pills under the table. The two of them parting ways with nothing more than a nod and never having to actually acknowledge each other's existence.
The reality of it was very different. And all because of one key word…consultation.
Before anything could proceed, Derek would need to have a consultation with the doctor first.
"To determine what is wrong," The nurse had told him when he had tried to use his money and status to get around the situation.
Which was why Derek was currently where he was. Sitting on a circular orange couch, taking small sips from a glass of water with sliced lemon in it, while he stared down at his doctor. Trying to channel his most potent glare to get the younger man to do his bidding…it was not working.
"Mr Haven, unless you tell me exactly why you are here, I cannot help you," Derek took a sip, and set the glass aside.
"What if I told you it is for an STD?" He asked.
"Then I would do the relevant tests and treat you from there," The doctor said, readjusting his glasses. Clearly the man was a bit wet behind the ears, he did not seem to get what being subtle was all about.
"And what if I told you that whatever I tell you, I want you to note it down as me having a venereal disease," Dr Cullen took off his glasses and Derek leaned back in his chair.
He might be nervous about his reason for coming, but this bit he could do. This, this was negotiation.
It was why he had chosen Dr Cullen in the first place, instead of contacting the family doctor. He had done a bit of research first, young, brilliant, and crazy enough to open his own practice despite still paying off his student debt.
The young man was desperate, and Derek, though he did not like it, was desperate too.
"You need money, Dr Cullen, and I need someone willing to keep my secret," The young man took a breath, the picked up his glasses, and placed them atop his head.
"I will not support your drug habit," He said, his voice stern. Derek wanted to take him seriously, but the way the glasses set atop his afro, plus his youthful features, he looked more like an angry poodle than a grown medical professional. He really had no choice but to laugh.
"I assure you doctor, I am not a drug addict looking for a fix. What I am however is a very powerful man, with a bit of a problem," Dr Cullen relaxed a bit at Derek's words, a cool aura settling over him as he eyed Derek shrewdly.
"I am listening," He said, fingers linked together.
By the time he left, Derek had a bottle of sleeping pills in his pocket. On his official record, he was being treated for not an STD as he had suggested, but a bacterial infection.
"STDs can be easily disproved by the lack of sexual partners over a period of time. But bacterial infections, anyone can get those," So officially, he had antibiotics, but in reality, it was actually sleeping pills. And for his troubles, whether Derek came in or not, he would be marked as a patient for a whole year. Enough time to pay off the young man's student loan without the transactions coming off as suspicious.
"But this is more than what you should be paying me," Dr Cullen had tried to protest, but had Derek simply shrugged and walked away.
"Think of it as a chance to start over without debt,"
Dr Cullen had the makings of a good doctor. He had been desperate enough to take Derek's offer. He did not want the young man to be taken advantage of by less savoury characters in the future.
He walked out of the doctor's office with a bottle of sleeping pills. As well as the knowledge that he had most likely just saved a young man from financial ruin.
He should have felt on top of the world, but with each step the tablets rattled, it sounded more like the final tolls of a bell signalling a death.