Scrubs - Five For Five - JD, Janitor
Title: Five For Five
Fandom: Scrubs
Pairing/Characters: JD, Janitor
Disclaimer: Does not belong to me.
Three times out of five, JD is able to avoid the janitor.
Whenever he sees a long shadow across the floor, he ducks behind the closest piece of large medical equipment. Statistically, it isn't always the janitor. Sometimes it's Chet, but as long as he doesn't see JD, it's counted as a victory.
As for the other two, one time out of every five, the janitor sneaks up on him. And the other, he ends up wrapped up in a conversation that never, ever ends well.
Today, JD cannot catch a break.
The janitor sees him twice in succession. The first time is innocuous enough, but the second one he is on his way to a patient's bed after being paged with a code blue. JD runs by, and they lock eyes almost accidentally.
"Oh, I see. Don't worry. You don't need to stop and say hi to the lowly janit--"
"Emergency!" is the only word that JD can squeak, and even though all of his heart, mind, body and soul should be dedicated to saving his patient's life, JD is wondering, for the rest of the trip down the hallway, if the janitor has a tiny JD shaped voodoo doll at home.
---
After lunch, he is stopped just outside of the cafeteria doorway. JD walks right into it when he hears a pager going off.
"Hm," the janitor looks thoughtfully at a dark grey pager in his hand.
"Where did you get that?" JD asks, and wonders if he can stuff the words back into his mouth as soon as he's said them.
"I can't have a pager?"
"I'm not saying you can't have a pager, but--"
"You have a pager."
"I... do."
"So only doctors can have pagers?"
"Hey, I never said--"
"What if the floor becomes dangerous and slippery? What if a squeaky bed keeps someone up all night? What if the life of a linoleum tile hangs in the balance?"
As if on cue, the grey pager beeps again. The janitor glances at it. His brow wrinkles.
"Gotta go, " he says, gravely, placing the pager on his cart. "It's an Emergency!"
JD waits until he's completely gone before looking into the cart and seeing the words "code puke-on-the-floor" scrolling across the tiny screen.
---
It's three out of five. JD has been counting.
The day is already an anomaly, but if he can avoid two more, it will average into some kind of normalcy. He sees the janitor pushing a broom down the East hallway, so JD heads to the South hallway, whistling through his teeth.
Halfway down the hall, the broom catches his ankle, and he's face-down trying to gurgle the most threatening "hey!" he can muster.
"You know, I've been thinking."
"About how it isn't nice to do things like that?" JD says into the floor.
"No. Not that. But I've been thinking about how maybe I'm too hard on you."
JD pushes up and draws his legs underneath him until he's standing. His full height approximately reaches the janitor's belt.
"I want to take you to dinner."
"What?"
"Doctors eat, don't they?"
"Uh, yeah, but--"
"I already made reservations for tonight."
"You don't have to--"
"I saved up for two months. My wife hasn't eaten in a week. It's the best restaurant in town and I would like - no I would be honored - if you joined me."
There had to be a way out of this. JD thinks about using a kung fu grip to disable him, then running. Or maybe reaching over and spraying ammonia in his eyes... and then running. Or the old switcharoo with a body bag, no running required.
Then a voice so beautiful it sounds like a siren song shoots from across the nurses station.
"You know, Celeste, your patient, who happens to be going into cardiac arrest probably wouldn't be opposed to a little assistance right about, oh, now."
JD's face brightens. "Emergen-!"
"Yeah, yeah. Cey."
---
At the end of the day, JD is only able to avoid the janitor once out of five times. He sits, alone, in the bar near the hospital, sipping on an apple daiquiri with a sadly not-quite-extended pinky.
"Rough day?" the bartender asks, placing coasters along the polished bar.
"Yeah, it really was," JD says. "First, I had this awful pain in my side when I woke up. Then when I got to work--"
"Hey, woah. Just making small talk."
JD sighs a long and labored sigh.
The janitor - who JD swears has grown about four feet since that afternoon - sits down next to him and orders a drink just as the last bit of air escapes JD's lungs. He chokes on it a little.
"Have you ever been to a nice restaurant, that you saved up two months for, and eaten all alone?"
"Look. I'm sorry. I had... plans."
"You had plans to sit in a bar by yourself and have a girly drink?"
"It's not girly," JD says, trying to hide the little pink umbrella behind his palm.
"Eh. I didn't have reservations anyway," the janitor says, then brings a shot glass to his lips. "Though, my wife really hasn't eaten in a week. She says she's on a hunger strike until Arbor Day is outlawed."
Knowing he'll regret the question, he asks anyway. "Why Arbor Day?"
"She doesn't like trees." the janitor says, thoughtfully. "It's always been a rough spot. I have to scrub the floors at home on my hands and knees."
"Why not use a plastic mop?"
"...Now that's just sick."
Sometimes he says something in just the right way and JD snaps a little.
"I don't even know why I bother. You're always terrible to me. You're always trying to cut me down. We're not even at work and you're finding a way to make me miserable. What is your problem, huh? Who pissed in your window cleaner?"
The janitor knocks back a second shot, and slams the glass down on the bar. "You're right."
JD puffs his chest out. "Yes, I am."
"We're just two guys in a bar. Truce."
The bartender sets another shot glass in front of the janitor and he holds up his glass. "To Arbor Day," He says.
JD lifts up his glass by the stem, and after the toast the janitor looks in to his eyes until JD fears he may never look away. Then he says a curt "Until we meet again" and is gone.
JD thinks, as the janitor is walking away, that tomorrow will have to be five out of five if only to balance out the universe. He orders another daiquiri and lets the bottom of the drink get melty before he takes a sip.
When his glass is half empty, the bartender returns holding a phone receiver just under his chin. "Are you John Dorian?"
Apparently word of his conquests have spread to the masses.
"Why yes. Yes I am."
The bartender lifts an eyebrow, "I just got a call saying that your car has been towed?"
JD's pager chirps inside of his pocket.
He doesn't actually release the "Damn you!" until his drink is finished and the small umbrella lies alone on the bar. Most of the patrons have left, and his scream vibrates against the walls.
For the rest of the night, the words "code i-moonlight-as-a-tow-truck-driver" scroll endlessly on the pager clutched in his hand.
Fandom: Scrubs
Pairing/Characters: JD, Janitor
Disclaimer: Does not belong to me.
Three times out of five, JD is able to avoid the janitor.
Whenever he sees a long shadow across the floor, he ducks behind the closest piece of large medical equipment. Statistically, it isn't always the janitor. Sometimes it's Chet, but as long as he doesn't see JD, it's counted as a victory.
As for the other two, one time out of every five, the janitor sneaks up on him. And the other, he ends up wrapped up in a conversation that never, ever ends well.
Today, JD cannot catch a break.
The janitor sees him twice in succession. The first time is innocuous enough, but the second one he is on his way to a patient's bed after being paged with a code blue. JD runs by, and they lock eyes almost accidentally.
"Oh, I see. Don't worry. You don't need to stop and say hi to the lowly janit--"
"Emergency!" is the only word that JD can squeak, and even though all of his heart, mind, body and soul should be dedicated to saving his patient's life, JD is wondering, for the rest of the trip down the hallway, if the janitor has a tiny JD shaped voodoo doll at home.
---
After lunch, he is stopped just outside of the cafeteria doorway. JD walks right into it when he hears a pager going off.
"Hm," the janitor looks thoughtfully at a dark grey pager in his hand.
"Where did you get that?" JD asks, and wonders if he can stuff the words back into his mouth as soon as he's said them.
"I can't have a pager?"
"I'm not saying you can't have a pager, but--"
"You have a pager."
"I... do."
"So only doctors can have pagers?"
"Hey, I never said--"
"What if the floor becomes dangerous and slippery? What if a squeaky bed keeps someone up all night? What if the life of a linoleum tile hangs in the balance?"
As if on cue, the grey pager beeps again. The janitor glances at it. His brow wrinkles.
"Gotta go, " he says, gravely, placing the pager on his cart. "It's an Emergency!"
JD waits until he's completely gone before looking into the cart and seeing the words "code puke-on-the-floor" scrolling across the tiny screen.
---
It's three out of five. JD has been counting.
The day is already an anomaly, but if he can avoid two more, it will average into some kind of normalcy. He sees the janitor pushing a broom down the East hallway, so JD heads to the South hallway, whistling through his teeth.
Halfway down the hall, the broom catches his ankle, and he's face-down trying to gurgle the most threatening "hey!" he can muster.
"You know, I've been thinking."
"About how it isn't nice to do things like that?" JD says into the floor.
"No. Not that. But I've been thinking about how maybe I'm too hard on you."
JD pushes up and draws his legs underneath him until he's standing. His full height approximately reaches the janitor's belt.
"I want to take you to dinner."
"What?"
"Doctors eat, don't they?"
"Uh, yeah, but--"
"I already made reservations for tonight."
"You don't have to--"
"I saved up for two months. My wife hasn't eaten in a week. It's the best restaurant in town and I would like - no I would be honored - if you joined me."
There had to be a way out of this. JD thinks about using a kung fu grip to disable him, then running. Or maybe reaching over and spraying ammonia in his eyes... and then running. Or the old switcharoo with a body bag, no running required.
Then a voice so beautiful it sounds like a siren song shoots from across the nurses station.
"You know, Celeste, your patient, who happens to be going into cardiac arrest probably wouldn't be opposed to a little assistance right about, oh, now."
JD's face brightens. "Emergen-!"
"Yeah, yeah. Cey."
---
At the end of the day, JD is only able to avoid the janitor once out of five times. He sits, alone, in the bar near the hospital, sipping on an apple daiquiri with a sadly not-quite-extended pinky.
"Rough day?" the bartender asks, placing coasters along the polished bar.
"Yeah, it really was," JD says. "First, I had this awful pain in my side when I woke up. Then when I got to work--"
"Hey, woah. Just making small talk."
JD sighs a long and labored sigh.
The janitor - who JD swears has grown about four feet since that afternoon - sits down next to him and orders a drink just as the last bit of air escapes JD's lungs. He chokes on it a little.
"Have you ever been to a nice restaurant, that you saved up two months for, and eaten all alone?"
"Look. I'm sorry. I had... plans."
"You had plans to sit in a bar by yourself and have a girly drink?"
"It's not girly," JD says, trying to hide the little pink umbrella behind his palm.
"Eh. I didn't have reservations anyway," the janitor says, then brings a shot glass to his lips. "Though, my wife really hasn't eaten in a week. She says she's on a hunger strike until Arbor Day is outlawed."
Knowing he'll regret the question, he asks anyway. "Why Arbor Day?"
"She doesn't like trees." the janitor says, thoughtfully. "It's always been a rough spot. I have to scrub the floors at home on my hands and knees."
"Why not use a plastic mop?"
"...Now that's just sick."
Sometimes he says something in just the right way and JD snaps a little.
"I don't even know why I bother. You're always terrible to me. You're always trying to cut me down. We're not even at work and you're finding a way to make me miserable. What is your problem, huh? Who pissed in your window cleaner?"
The janitor knocks back a second shot, and slams the glass down on the bar. "You're right."
JD puffs his chest out. "Yes, I am."
"We're just two guys in a bar. Truce."
The bartender sets another shot glass in front of the janitor and he holds up his glass. "To Arbor Day," He says.
JD lifts up his glass by the stem, and after the toast the janitor looks in to his eyes until JD fears he may never look away. Then he says a curt "Until we meet again" and is gone.
JD thinks, as the janitor is walking away, that tomorrow will have to be five out of five if only to balance out the universe. He orders another daiquiri and lets the bottom of the drink get melty before he takes a sip.
When his glass is half empty, the bartender returns holding a phone receiver just under his chin. "Are you John Dorian?"
Apparently word of his conquests have spread to the masses.
"Why yes. Yes I am."
The bartender lifts an eyebrow, "I just got a call saying that your car has been towed?"
JD's pager chirps inside of his pocket.
He doesn't actually release the "Damn you!" until his drink is finished and the small umbrella lies alone on the bar. Most of the patrons have left, and his scream vibrates against the walls.
For the rest of the night, the words "code i-moonlight-as-a-tow-truck-driver" scroll endlessly on the pager clutched in his hand.