SCRUBS FIC: Her Meds [Elliot/Jordan, PG-13] 1/1
Title: Her Meds
For: scrubsfichallng
Author: Kipli
Email: Kipli@livejournal.com
Series: Scrubs
Pairing: pre-slash Jordan/Elliot
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,460
Summary: Elliot's attempt to soldier through a day at work sick doesn't impress Jordan.
Disclaimer: Not my 'verse, I just play with them.
Notes: For scrubsfichallng's Elliot challenge--Challenge#9: Frick! I don't feel well. So I used it as inspiration for this silliness. Also, was at kind of a loss for what to call this. ;)
***
Her Meds
***
I hate being sick.
Which, actually, my line of work? *Probably* not helping me in that department.
I just don't usually get sick that often. Maybe it was the hours I spent wandering my father's hospital when I was little, I dunno. But colds and stuff were never really a big issue for me. And so whenever I do get sick, I'm maybe kind of more pitiful than anyone else.
Well, I mean, everyone else has more *practice* at feeling this shitty, okay? I don't know how to deal with it. I never *learned* to just suck it up and down some DayQuil and stupor my way through a day. I always got to just stay in bed and drink soup and listen to the maid hum songs while she cleaned my room.
I sigh as I come up to the nurse's station.
A warm, soft bed. Comforting, hot soup. Airy, soothing Spanish lullaby's.
I prop myself up against the counter by my elbows in order to keep from hugging the cool surface.
Frick, I just want to collapse.
"You okay, Elliot?"
I blink at JD, my eyes taking a moment to focus on his half concerned, half amused face.
"I'm fine," I croak, throat burning at speaking. Goddamn it! I reach to dig into my lab coat for another lozenge.
Turk raises his eyebrows at me from behind JD. "Oh, yeah, you sound *fantastic*."
"It's just--just a little cold," I manage to grate out while unwrapping the lozenge and popping it into my mouth.
JD reaches a comforting hand towards me. "If you want to go home, Elliot, I can watch your patients. It's no big deal."
I blow at my bangs in irritation but they don't move. Fantastic. I'm so sweaty and disgusting that they're sticking to my gigantic forehead! I reach a hand up to move them instead as I huff at JD, "I'm fine! I can handle a little cold. Don't you think I can handle a little cold? Don't patronize me, John Dorian!"
Okay. A little squeaky and insane towards the end, but at least JD is backing off now. He slides back to his spot beside Turk.
"Wow, isn't she a blast on meds," Turk snorts.
JD smirks. "You should see her hopped up on Pixie Sticks."
"Haha," I grumble. Jackasses.
Why the hell did I come over here again?
I look down and stare at my hands a moment. Something. Something I needed to pick up. Yes. Yes something I needed to get...
"Chart!" I suddenly yelp. I jerk my head up to see JD and Turk staring at me again. I clear my throat--oh frick that hurt, don't do that ever again!--and wave a hand nonchalantly. "I need to get a chart."
"Ooookay," Turk soothes, as if I'm liable to shout at them again at random. "You stay right *there* and we'll get you your chart. Which patient?"
I scowl at them. Goddamned condescending bastards don't think I can do anything on my own.
Wow I am mean when I'm hopped up on drugs.
Energy draining from me, I skip declaring that I can do it on my own, and instead I sigh as I slump more so against the counter. "Miss. Green."
"She's had her flu shot, right?" JD jokes. I glare so pointedly at him that he satisfactorily starts to fidget and mutter, "Sorry, sorry."
No wonder Doctor Cox likes to torture him. And me. But mostly him. Which makes sense. I'd think making JD squirm would be lots of fun. In my drugged state, anyway. And with how much scotch Doctor Cox drinks, this must be something akin to it.
Wow. Comparing my mental state to Doctor Cox's? Maybe I should go home...
"Elliot?" comes Turk's voice, from right beside me, which makes me jump. When did he come over to me? I blink and straighten up. He waves a chart at me. "This the one you wanted?"
I blink again--focus, eyes, focus!--and grab the chart from him, noticing how he's sure not to touch me and quickly leaps back away from me. Great. I'm a leper now. I sigh and squint my eyes at the chart. "Yeah. Yeah this is the one. Thanks."
I turn to go, mostly steady on my feet, as I hear Turk mutter after me, "Any time..."
I'm fine. I'm good. I can do this. I don't need their help. I don't need to go home. I'm fine.
I flip open the chart as I round a corner. And immediately run into someone.
Okay, so maybe I can't read and walk at the same time.
Oh the floor is nice and cool. Even if disgustingly dirty. I'd struggle to get back up but a bought of coughing overtakes me. Frick! And every one hurts like hell with my sore throat. And I bet I look *so* sexy bent over hacking on the floor.
"Okay, Stick, seriously--mussed and pathetic is not a good look for you."
Oh god.
I take a wheezing breath and swallow hard as the coughing fit subsides. I look up at Jordan, who apparently hadn't been so weak and pathetic as to fall over with our bumping into each other. I manage to squeak, voice sounding even more awful, "But it's all the rage in Paris."
Of course, talking irritates my throat, and another coughing attack jumps me.
Frick on a stick!
I can feel my arms shacking as they prop me up against the linoleum. I take in cool, steady breaths once I'm able to again. Meds. I must have miscalculated my meds. What time was it?
I freeze as a cool hand presses to my forehead. Oh damn, that feels good. I close my eyes. The hand stays where it is a moment before running fingers down to press the back of the hand to a cheek. So good.
Jordan's voice is just as stern as ever. "All right, Princess, you need to go lie down. Even I can tell your running a fever."
Such a light touch for someone so mean.
"I'm fi--fine." Damn throat hurts like hell thanks to all this coughing.
I open my eyes to see Jordan bent down beside me, looking undisturbed at my state in her pressed suit. "Cram it, Stick. You're going home now or I'm tying you down to one of the beds here. And I promise you, I am *not* one of those nice naughty nurses."
I blink at that and the sudden image that flashes into my head. Why would a nurse have a whip?
"But my patients--"
"DJ can watch them. They'll get the same amount of care out of Spazz as they would with a pathetic and sickly you."
Did she just compliment me? Maybe?
Jordan growls some at me as I don't respond. She grabs hold of my arm and heaves me up onto my feet effortlessly. Well, it's not like I have any energy left to fight her on it. She points a finger at me and then at the elevator she probably just came out of. "Home. Bed. Now."
I waver a moment on my feet. Why let her tell you what to do? When you didn't listen to JD or Turk? Why listen to her?
I square my shoulders a bit and open my mouth to protest again, but then Jordan thrusts her face nearly into mine, eyes alight with annoyance and something else.
"If you go home--right now--and stop with the annoying tough girl act, which you are *horrible* at, by the way, then I'll make sure one of your geek squad friends drops by with *soup* later on, all right?"
Oh yes. Soup. Bed and soup. Nearly everything one could ever wish for.
A dreamy look crosses my face and I can't stop from muttering, "Will you sing to me too?"
Jordan shoves me toward the elevator. "Cute, Stick, but I don't sing." She makes a show of sighing at me before she struts off down the corridor.
I watch a moment, leaning up against the cool elevator doors.
She has a nice ass.
Frick! Turk was right. I am weird on meds.
The elevator doors open and I nearly topple over again into the elevator. Thankfully I manage to latch onto the railing circling the inside of the elevator and right myself before I can flop onto the floor again. Of course, I take a deep breath as I do so, and trigger another coughing fit.
Double frick!
At least I'm going home. At least I have a bed to look forward to.
And just *why* am I hoping Jordan doesn't tell anyone and comes with soup herself?
Damn meds...
END
***
x-posted to scrubsfichallng scrubs_slash scrubsfic elliotjordan
For: scrubsfichallng
Author: Kipli
Email: Kipli@livejournal.com
Series: Scrubs
Pairing: pre-slash Jordan/Elliot
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,460
Summary: Elliot's attempt to soldier through a day at work sick doesn't impress Jordan.
Disclaimer: Not my 'verse, I just play with them.
Notes: For scrubsfichallng's Elliot challenge--Challenge#9: Frick! I don't feel well. So I used it as inspiration for this silliness. Also, was at kind of a loss for what to call this. ;)
***
Her Meds
***
I hate being sick.
Which, actually, my line of work? *Probably* not helping me in that department.
I just don't usually get sick that often. Maybe it was the hours I spent wandering my father's hospital when I was little, I dunno. But colds and stuff were never really a big issue for me. And so whenever I do get sick, I'm maybe kind of more pitiful than anyone else.
Well, I mean, everyone else has more *practice* at feeling this shitty, okay? I don't know how to deal with it. I never *learned* to just suck it up and down some DayQuil and stupor my way through a day. I always got to just stay in bed and drink soup and listen to the maid hum songs while she cleaned my room.
I sigh as I come up to the nurse's station.
A warm, soft bed. Comforting, hot soup. Airy, soothing Spanish lullaby's.
I prop myself up against the counter by my elbows in order to keep from hugging the cool surface.
Frick, I just want to collapse.
"You okay, Elliot?"
I blink at JD, my eyes taking a moment to focus on his half concerned, half amused face.
"I'm fine," I croak, throat burning at speaking. Goddamn it! I reach to dig into my lab coat for another lozenge.
Turk raises his eyebrows at me from behind JD. "Oh, yeah, you sound *fantastic*."
"It's just--just a little cold," I manage to grate out while unwrapping the lozenge and popping it into my mouth.
JD reaches a comforting hand towards me. "If you want to go home, Elliot, I can watch your patients. It's no big deal."
I blow at my bangs in irritation but they don't move. Fantastic. I'm so sweaty and disgusting that they're sticking to my gigantic forehead! I reach a hand up to move them instead as I huff at JD, "I'm fine! I can handle a little cold. Don't you think I can handle a little cold? Don't patronize me, John Dorian!"
Okay. A little squeaky and insane towards the end, but at least JD is backing off now. He slides back to his spot beside Turk.
"Wow, isn't she a blast on meds," Turk snorts.
JD smirks. "You should see her hopped up on Pixie Sticks."
"Haha," I grumble. Jackasses.
Why the hell did I come over here again?
I look down and stare at my hands a moment. Something. Something I needed to pick up. Yes. Yes something I needed to get...
"Chart!" I suddenly yelp. I jerk my head up to see JD and Turk staring at me again. I clear my throat--oh frick that hurt, don't do that ever again!--and wave a hand nonchalantly. "I need to get a chart."
"Ooookay," Turk soothes, as if I'm liable to shout at them again at random. "You stay right *there* and we'll get you your chart. Which patient?"
I scowl at them. Goddamned condescending bastards don't think I can do anything on my own.
Wow I am mean when I'm hopped up on drugs.
Energy draining from me, I skip declaring that I can do it on my own, and instead I sigh as I slump more so against the counter. "Miss. Green."
"She's had her flu shot, right?" JD jokes. I glare so pointedly at him that he satisfactorily starts to fidget and mutter, "Sorry, sorry."
No wonder Doctor Cox likes to torture him. And me. But mostly him. Which makes sense. I'd think making JD squirm would be lots of fun. In my drugged state, anyway. And with how much scotch Doctor Cox drinks, this must be something akin to it.
Wow. Comparing my mental state to Doctor Cox's? Maybe I should go home...
"Elliot?" comes Turk's voice, from right beside me, which makes me jump. When did he come over to me? I blink and straighten up. He waves a chart at me. "This the one you wanted?"
I blink again--focus, eyes, focus!--and grab the chart from him, noticing how he's sure not to touch me and quickly leaps back away from me. Great. I'm a leper now. I sigh and squint my eyes at the chart. "Yeah. Yeah this is the one. Thanks."
I turn to go, mostly steady on my feet, as I hear Turk mutter after me, "Any time..."
I'm fine. I'm good. I can do this. I don't need their help. I don't need to go home. I'm fine.
I flip open the chart as I round a corner. And immediately run into someone.
Okay, so maybe I can't read and walk at the same time.
Oh the floor is nice and cool. Even if disgustingly dirty. I'd struggle to get back up but a bought of coughing overtakes me. Frick! And every one hurts like hell with my sore throat. And I bet I look *so* sexy bent over hacking on the floor.
"Okay, Stick, seriously--mussed and pathetic is not a good look for you."
Oh god.
I take a wheezing breath and swallow hard as the coughing fit subsides. I look up at Jordan, who apparently hadn't been so weak and pathetic as to fall over with our bumping into each other. I manage to squeak, voice sounding even more awful, "But it's all the rage in Paris."
Of course, talking irritates my throat, and another coughing attack jumps me.
Frick on a stick!
I can feel my arms shacking as they prop me up against the linoleum. I take in cool, steady breaths once I'm able to again. Meds. I must have miscalculated my meds. What time was it?
I freeze as a cool hand presses to my forehead. Oh damn, that feels good. I close my eyes. The hand stays where it is a moment before running fingers down to press the back of the hand to a cheek. So good.
Jordan's voice is just as stern as ever. "All right, Princess, you need to go lie down. Even I can tell your running a fever."
Such a light touch for someone so mean.
"I'm fi--fine." Damn throat hurts like hell thanks to all this coughing.
I open my eyes to see Jordan bent down beside me, looking undisturbed at my state in her pressed suit. "Cram it, Stick. You're going home now or I'm tying you down to one of the beds here. And I promise you, I am *not* one of those nice naughty nurses."
I blink at that and the sudden image that flashes into my head. Why would a nurse have a whip?
"But my patients--"
"DJ can watch them. They'll get the same amount of care out of Spazz as they would with a pathetic and sickly you."
Did she just compliment me? Maybe?
Jordan growls some at me as I don't respond. She grabs hold of my arm and heaves me up onto my feet effortlessly. Well, it's not like I have any energy left to fight her on it. She points a finger at me and then at the elevator she probably just came out of. "Home. Bed. Now."
I waver a moment on my feet. Why let her tell you what to do? When you didn't listen to JD or Turk? Why listen to her?
I square my shoulders a bit and open my mouth to protest again, but then Jordan thrusts her face nearly into mine, eyes alight with annoyance and something else.
"If you go home--right now--and stop with the annoying tough girl act, which you are *horrible* at, by the way, then I'll make sure one of your geek squad friends drops by with *soup* later on, all right?"
Oh yes. Soup. Bed and soup. Nearly everything one could ever wish for.
A dreamy look crosses my face and I can't stop from muttering, "Will you sing to me too?"
Jordan shoves me toward the elevator. "Cute, Stick, but I don't sing." She makes a show of sighing at me before she struts off down the corridor.
I watch a moment, leaning up against the cool elevator doors.
She has a nice ass.
Frick! Turk was right. I am weird on meds.
The elevator doors open and I nearly topple over again into the elevator. Thankfully I manage to latch onto the railing circling the inside of the elevator and right myself before I can flop onto the floor again. Of course, I take a deep breath as I do so, and trigger another coughing fit.
Double frick!
At least I'm going home. At least I have a bed to look forward to.
And just *why* am I hoping Jordan doesn't tell anyone and comes with soup herself?
Damn meds...
END
***
x-posted to scrubsfichallng scrubs_slash scrubsfic elliotjordan