DISCLAIMER: Scrubs and its characters are the property of Touchstone Television and NBC. No infringement intended.
CHALLENGE: Written for the 48 Hour Halloween Challenge.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Their Costumes
By bank_farter
"Turk!" Carla exclaimed in frustration. "I thought we said we were going to dress up on Halloween this year!"
"We did, baby," Turk said, grinning. He pointed down to the shoes he'd bought from Nurse Roberts. "I'm a bowler. Get it?"
Carla sighed. "That does not count as dressing up." She glanced at JD. "And you, Bambi?"
"Ok, I know it doesn't look like it, but I've totally got it covered." JD eagerly pulled up his scrubs top to reveal a Superman t-shirt underneath. "TA-DA!"
Carla rolled her eyes and banged her head against the chart she was carrying. "I've been wearing these stupid cat ears all day, and neither one of you bozos is wearing anything remotely resembling a costume."
"Oh come on," JD whined. "Don't you get it? I'm like Clark Kent with the secret identity hero stuff and the cool log--"
"We get it, DJ," interrupted Jordan, who walked over to the nurses' station wearing a tall, pointy hat and carrying a broom. "Ironic? Yes. Costume? No."
Dr. Cox glanced up from his paperwork and smirked. "You're one to talk there, Broomhilda. I mean, seriously, Jordan, a witch? Could you be less creative? You're supposed to disguise yourself as something you're not, not cloak yourself in an obvious manifestation of the wretchedness that surrounds what's left of your evil, festering soul."
Elliot, who had just walked into the hallway, swore she heard actually heard the 'woosh' sound as Turk, JD, Carla, and pretty much everyone else who was standing within a ten foot radius of the nurses' station fled. "Frick," she muttered under her breath. "No one ever tells me when we're going to do that."
Jordan ignored her presence and smirked. "I've missed you, too, Perry. Pray tell, what's your costume supposed to be? Oh, wait, don't tell me: bitter ex-husband? Doctor with no friends or social life? Ooh, ooh, what about thoroughly neutered pet? Stop me when I get close. The suspense is killing me."
"Touche," Perry replied with more than a small hint of appreciation in his voice. "Although, let's be honest, 'killing you' is a bit of an exaggeration. Hell, if I were that lucky, I'd be buying lottery tickets every week."
Jordan raised her eyebrows and smiled a little. "Truce?"
"Ah, what the heck. But that means you say nothing about my costume," he grumbled as he slapped the tinsel halo he'd been wearing earlier back onto his head.
Jordan bit her lip to stifle the derisive laughter that was threatening to bubble up, and Perry gave her a warning glare before growling and stalking down the hall.
Elliot snorted, and Jordan glanced over at her, finally registering her presence.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Oh, nothing," Elliot said quickly. She grinned slyly at Jordan. "So, a witch, huh? That's…inspired."
Jordan rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Look at your costume. What are you supposed to be, a doctor? How original."
"Ok, we've been together for like three months now, sowhyareyoustillpickingonme?!" demanded Elliot so quickly and shrilly that she figured Jordan probably didn't hear her anyway. She took a deep breath and continued, "Besides, these are just my normal work clothes. I'm not a wearing costume."
"Well, me neither, apparently," Jordan said, folding her arms and frowning.
"Good."
"Fine."
In the tense silence that followed, Elliot let her eyes rove over Jordan's form. She does look kind of hot with the robe and the pointy shoes, Elliot thought. She grinned shyly at the older woman. "Umm, you know the Hansel and Gretel story with the witch and the giant house made of candy and stuff?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I totally had this fantasy about that when I was younger. Like, I was Gretel and then the evil witch… you know." Elliot blushed. "I mean, maybe not so much 'evil' because, eww, furnaces and burning, but… yeah…"
Jordan looked contemplative for a moment before smiling wickedly. "Well, it's no candy house, but I think my office has a candy dish at least. You know," she said, raising her eyebrows like she was daring Elliot, "If you're up for it."
Elliot grinned. "Meet you there in ten?"
"Ok," Jordan replied. She turned to walk down the hall, then stopped, reconsidered, and turned back. "Oh, but Elliot? If there's German involved, it has to be Sweet Little Milk Maid." She shuddered. "Evil Old Hausfrau is the closest I've come to being freaked out in a really long time."
The End