Her Own Private Victory (1)
Title: Her Own Private Victory.
Fandom: Scrubs.
Pairing: Jordan/Elliot, slight Jordan/Carla.
Warnings: None, as such.
Summary: Elliot Reid finally gets the victory she's been, secretly, craving for months. And she doesn't care if nobody else knows of it.
Author's Notes: This was the first Scrubs fan fiction I ever started, so don't hate me too much for it...
Disclaimer: Scrubs is Bill's!
“Okay, okay, I got it!” Turk called, his voice only slurring a little despite the amount of alcohol he’d already consumed. “Baby, you… and Jordan!”
As the others roared with laughter at the so-not-funny suggestion, my blue eyes widened, and I shook my head with a nervous laugh. It was just the beers talking. And even if Carla and Jordan were game, surely, Dr Cox wouldn’t watch his ex-wife-but-still-wife kiss another woman. Particularly not one he once loved.
Looking up, expecting to see Dr Cox’s face straighten, and hear him spout the word ‘no’ in various ways in ten seconds flat, I blew my bangs out of my face, satisfied that this ‘dare’ would go no further. My smile slackened when Dr Cox said nothing, but shrugged one shoulder. It was Carla who threw him the questioning look, seeking silent permission. Jordan was rolling her eyes and moving towards Carla almost as soon as the suggestion was out there.
She clearly thought it was lame.
That was when it was confirmed. I had a thing for the damned harridan. Carla and Jordan’s locked, alcohol-stained lips sparked a range of unforeseen emotions within me. I did not like it. “Frick…” I muttered; they were doing tongues! Jordan’s elegantly manicured hand held Carla’s face, firm enough to show who was in charge, but not enough to bruise.
‘I’d let her bruise me,’ I thought childishly as they finally pulled apart to oaf-like cheers from JD and Turk and a sigh from Dr Cox. Turk was most drunk, and he cheered the loudest. He didn’t notice that JD looked more awkward than usual, so he wouldn’t notice the look on my face. I suddenly wanted to beat them all over the head with beer bottles until they shut up.
I hated alcohol. It was messing with my head, making me believe that my lingering glances when she breezed past me effortlessly at work were more than just… natural instinct. I couldn’t have a thing for her. I was straight! Downing the remainder of my drink so quickly that it burned my throat, I stood up and told my friends that I was going to the bathroom.
Had they spared me a glance, I would have avoided their eyes. As it were, Jordan and Dr Cox were too busy trying to eat each other, whilst Turk sung sweet nothings to an inebriated Carla. As I slipped past, JD pinched my thigh, as if to say ‘don’t leave me with these people!’
For once, JD would have to deal with it by himself. Two minutes in the bathroom of this club was critical for what remained of my mental health.
Before I realised that there was anyone else in there I leaned against the main door. The other woman raised her eyebrows judgementally; I laughed awkwardly, starting to babble explanations about my mother always telling me to check up on my appearance when I was out. Until I was squashed against the adjacent wall by someone entering the washroom. “Double frick!”
“Hey Freckles, beat it.” My heart fell as I heard her speak. I stepped inside properly without thinking, apologising stupidly to the affronted-looking woman as she obeyed Jordan’s orders. I loved how she could control people like that. My blood felt hot, embarrassingly excited, as my shoes extended the distance between myself and Jordan Sullivan. Why had she followed me in here? What did she want?
I must’ve made eye contact with her. Dr Cox once told JD that looking into her eyes could result in the theft of your soul, but I’d always laughed it off. Still, I avoided direct eye contact, because I was sure she would know. I was sure she could read my thoughts just by looking into my eyes. She could not see what I was thinking; Jordan would delight in my little crush on her, and I’ve never been naïve enough to believe that she would keep quiet about it.
I moved to the sinks absently, distracting myself with my appearance. I busied my hands with brushing my hair out of my face, and as I moved to pull my lipstick out of my purse, my eyes flicked to her nervously. She was just watching me, and when she noticed me looking, I saw her lips curl into a smile. I avoided looking at her reflection in the mirror, the way her body looked as she leaned against the sinks and stared reflection Elliot.
“Ok, what?” I couldn’t keep quiet; her standing there and doing nothing but look at me was freaking me out. There was little tension in the air between us - she was perfectly casual - but all of me felt heated; scared, excited and anxious. “Have you come in here just to freak me out? Because I didn’t tell you about my toilet talking issue for you to use it against me!”
She just looked at me for a moment, then sighed and turned her back on me to look into the mirror behind her. “Yeah, you’re the one doing the talking, Stick. I’m not stopping you from going pee pee,” she pointed out, her patronising baby voice making my cheeks flush. Lifting my chin in the air, I moved away from the sink and walked passed Jordan, deliberately not looking at her. I quite liked my soul where it was.
Whatever a soul was.
As soon as my cubicle door was shut, I regretted my decision. I’d never, ever, pee whilst Jordan was in the same room as me. Why? I don’t know, I just… couldn’t. Instead, I leaned against the back of the door and panicked. What the hell was I going to do? Hopefully, she’d get bored and leave. But she didn’t. I was stood there for ages listening to her, and she was probably laughing at me on the other side of the door.
Three knocks on my door caused me to jump and kick the toilet. “Damn,” I whined under my breath, “What?” My voice came out snappier than I intended it to, but I was freaked out and backing into a fricking toilet.
“Oh Barbie, there you are. It’s just you pee so silently that I thought you’d spontaneously died or something. Just checking you’re alive.” She did not ask what I was doing, nor whether I was ever coming out. I said nothing, but made a weird sort of noise. “Open the door.” Her order, her voice, was so strong that I obeyed immediately. Something in her eyes told me that she loved the power she had over me, though I quickly looked away from her.
“What do you want?” I asked, trapped in my cubicle.
“I told you, I was checking you’re ok.”
“Why did I have to open the door?”
“Why so many questions?”
“I… You never answer! You’re always so fricking cryptic! I only want to know what you want.”
She smiled, “Oh no, no, Elliot. You should be asking yourself what you want, because you know what I think? I think you’re very confused. You have about five seconds to decide what to do.”
I looked at her frantically, terrified but thrilled. “Look, I-” And then she kissed me.
Fandom: Scrubs.
Pairing: Jordan/Elliot, slight Jordan/Carla.
Warnings: None, as such.
Summary: Elliot Reid finally gets the victory she's been, secretly, craving for months. And she doesn't care if nobody else knows of it.
Author's Notes: This was the first Scrubs fan fiction I ever started, so don't hate me too much for it...
Disclaimer: Scrubs is Bill's!
“Okay, okay, I got it!” Turk called, his voice only slurring a little despite the amount of alcohol he’d already consumed. “Baby, you… and Jordan!”
As the others roared with laughter at the so-not-funny suggestion, my blue eyes widened, and I shook my head with a nervous laugh. It was just the beers talking. And even if Carla and Jordan were game, surely, Dr Cox wouldn’t watch his ex-wife-but-still-wife kiss another woman. Particularly not one he once loved.
Looking up, expecting to see Dr Cox’s face straighten, and hear him spout the word ‘no’ in various ways in ten seconds flat, I blew my bangs out of my face, satisfied that this ‘dare’ would go no further. My smile slackened when Dr Cox said nothing, but shrugged one shoulder. It was Carla who threw him the questioning look, seeking silent permission. Jordan was rolling her eyes and moving towards Carla almost as soon as the suggestion was out there.
She clearly thought it was lame.
That was when it was confirmed. I had a thing for the damned harridan. Carla and Jordan’s locked, alcohol-stained lips sparked a range of unforeseen emotions within me. I did not like it. “Frick…” I muttered; they were doing tongues! Jordan’s elegantly manicured hand held Carla’s face, firm enough to show who was in charge, but not enough to bruise.
‘I’d let her bruise me,’ I thought childishly as they finally pulled apart to oaf-like cheers from JD and Turk and a sigh from Dr Cox. Turk was most drunk, and he cheered the loudest. He didn’t notice that JD looked more awkward than usual, so he wouldn’t notice the look on my face. I suddenly wanted to beat them all over the head with beer bottles until they shut up.
I hated alcohol. It was messing with my head, making me believe that my lingering glances when she breezed past me effortlessly at work were more than just… natural instinct. I couldn’t have a thing for her. I was straight! Downing the remainder of my drink so quickly that it burned my throat, I stood up and told my friends that I was going to the bathroom.
Had they spared me a glance, I would have avoided their eyes. As it were, Jordan and Dr Cox were too busy trying to eat each other, whilst Turk sung sweet nothings to an inebriated Carla. As I slipped past, JD pinched my thigh, as if to say ‘don’t leave me with these people!’
For once, JD would have to deal with it by himself. Two minutes in the bathroom of this club was critical for what remained of my mental health.
Before I realised that there was anyone else in there I leaned against the main door. The other woman raised her eyebrows judgementally; I laughed awkwardly, starting to babble explanations about my mother always telling me to check up on my appearance when I was out. Until I was squashed against the adjacent wall by someone entering the washroom. “Double frick!”
“Hey Freckles, beat it.” My heart fell as I heard her speak. I stepped inside properly without thinking, apologising stupidly to the affronted-looking woman as she obeyed Jordan’s orders. I loved how she could control people like that. My blood felt hot, embarrassingly excited, as my shoes extended the distance between myself and Jordan Sullivan. Why had she followed me in here? What did she want?
I must’ve made eye contact with her. Dr Cox once told JD that looking into her eyes could result in the theft of your soul, but I’d always laughed it off. Still, I avoided direct eye contact, because I was sure she would know. I was sure she could read my thoughts just by looking into my eyes. She could not see what I was thinking; Jordan would delight in my little crush on her, and I’ve never been naïve enough to believe that she would keep quiet about it.
I moved to the sinks absently, distracting myself with my appearance. I busied my hands with brushing my hair out of my face, and as I moved to pull my lipstick out of my purse, my eyes flicked to her nervously. She was just watching me, and when she noticed me looking, I saw her lips curl into a smile. I avoided looking at her reflection in the mirror, the way her body looked as she leaned against the sinks and stared reflection Elliot.
“Ok, what?” I couldn’t keep quiet; her standing there and doing nothing but look at me was freaking me out. There was little tension in the air between us - she was perfectly casual - but all of me felt heated; scared, excited and anxious. “Have you come in here just to freak me out? Because I didn’t tell you about my toilet talking issue for you to use it against me!”
She just looked at me for a moment, then sighed and turned her back on me to look into the mirror behind her. “Yeah, you’re the one doing the talking, Stick. I’m not stopping you from going pee pee,” she pointed out, her patronising baby voice making my cheeks flush. Lifting my chin in the air, I moved away from the sink and walked passed Jordan, deliberately not looking at her. I quite liked my soul where it was.
Whatever a soul was.
As soon as my cubicle door was shut, I regretted my decision. I’d never, ever, pee whilst Jordan was in the same room as me. Why? I don’t know, I just… couldn’t. Instead, I leaned against the back of the door and panicked. What the hell was I going to do? Hopefully, she’d get bored and leave. But she didn’t. I was stood there for ages listening to her, and she was probably laughing at me on the other side of the door.
Three knocks on my door caused me to jump and kick the toilet. “Damn,” I whined under my breath, “What?” My voice came out snappier than I intended it to, but I was freaked out and backing into a fricking toilet.
“Oh Barbie, there you are. It’s just you pee so silently that I thought you’d spontaneously died or something. Just checking you’re alive.” She did not ask what I was doing, nor whether I was ever coming out. I said nothing, but made a weird sort of noise. “Open the door.” Her order, her voice, was so strong that I obeyed immediately. Something in her eyes told me that she loved the power she had over me, though I quickly looked away from her.
“What do you want?” I asked, trapped in my cubicle.
“I told you, I was checking you’re ok.”
“Why did I have to open the door?”
“Why so many questions?”
“I… You never answer! You’re always so fricking cryptic! I only want to know what you want.”
She smiled, “Oh no, no, Elliot. You should be asking yourself what you want, because you know what I think? I think you’re very confused. You have about five seconds to decide what to do.”
I looked at her frantically, terrified but thrilled. “Look, I-” And then she kissed me.