DISCLAIMER: I don't own Scrubs or any of the characters, nor do I endorse choking people.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is dedicated to ralst and ohmanhattan, both of whom gave me the inspiration to do this :)
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Their Married Life
By bank_farter


"Hey Per," Jordan calls as she hears the door to the apartment open. "Come here."

Perry pokes his head into the bedroom doorway. "For christsake, Jordan, I just got here. What could you possibly need from me already?"

"I'm doing Elliot's look for her engagement party and I need to know what you like better," says Jordan, holding up two sketches. "Green v-neck dress or little red strapless number?"

Perry cringes. "You know, I could care less, but that would take effort."

"Oh come, on, Per." Jordan rolls her eyes. "Elliot's getting married."

"I'm well aware of that, dear. In fact, part of the reason that I can't be bothered to help you pick out a dress for Barbie is that I can't seem to distract myself from the extreme pity I'm feeling for Ken. I mean, Jesus, Jordan, can you imagine what it would be like to be married to her?"

Jordan paused. Hmm, what would that be like?


Elliot barges through the door of their apartment, muttering euphemisms for curse words under her breath as she struggles to dislodge her key from the lock.

"You're late," Jordan says from the couch, and Elliot's head snaps up in surprise.

"God, I know. I'm sorry. I had this patient who kept almost dying, and Kelso was being a big jerk and things just ran really late. I brought pizza, though," she says, holding up the box and looking hopeful that Jordan won't be too annoyed with her.

Jordan just arches an eyebrow. "Did you remember to order it with extra sauce?"

Elliot has a look like she's mentally kicking herself. "Umm, no?"

"You can't remember if you did or not?" Jordan asks, her perfect eyebrow arching up even further.

"I didn't," Elliot says as she rolls her eyes. "But I ordered it with the black and the green olives, just like you like, and…" she walks over to the couch, leans down, and kisses Jordan on the forehead. "…I think you'll live."

As she makes her way over to the dining room, she turns back to her wife with a mischievous smile. "Are you coming, or am I going to have to eat this thing all by myself?"

Jordan frowns for a moment before pushing herself dramatically off the couch. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

"Good," Elliot says, smiling, "Because I hate olives and it would suck to have to pick them off of all the slices."


They're in an unoccupied hospital room, and Elliot's babbling enthusiastically about something having to do with twentieth-century women poets, her college sorority, and a barbeque accident.

Jordan is bored. This is nothing new.

What is new is that they're married now, so Jordan has the perfect excuse to do what she does next, which is to lean in and press her lips hard against Elliot's. Elliot's a chapstick addict, so they're always soft and moist, and Jordan can't decide what she likes better: the feel of Elliot's mouth on hers or the fact that the blonde can't talk as long as they're kissing.

She decides it's probably a little of both, which is fine, she thinks, because Elliot isn't like Perry. She doesn't have to "win" all the time, and she doesn't really mind that sometimes Jordan makes out with her to shut her up. When Jordan breaks the embrace to ask her why that is, she just smiles.

"I don't know," she replies. "I guess it's a better social cue than just having someone look bored or make some phony excuse about having to be somewhere else. Plus," she says, blushing as Jordan's hand skims across her ribs and up to her chest, "It feels a lot nicer, too."


Elliot is leaning against the kitchen counter in their new apartment, reading the newspaper and cradling a mug of coffee between her hands. She barely lifts her head as Jordan wonders in and opens the refrigerator.

After poking around the appliance for a few moments, Jordan makes a mental note to tell Elliot to go pick up some groceries. Then, she grabs an apple from the crisper.

As soon as she bites into it, Elliot's head snaps up.

"Is that a Tydeman apple?" she asks, and Jordan can't help but notice that her voice is a little huskier than usual.

"It's whatever I grabbed at the store," Jordan says nonchalantly. She locks eyes with Elliot's too-dark ones and takes another bite, letting the juice drip a little from the corner of her mouth.

Next thing she knows, Elliot is pressing her against the refrigerator, and the apple is making a dull thunk as it hits the floor. It doesn't matter, though, because Elliot's tongue is darting out to lick up the juice, and Elliot's hands are working their way up under her top, and, god, she's not sure she would have figured Elliot for a biter, but there it is…

And when Elliot demands that she admit to stealing the apple as she pumps her fingers in and out of her, Jordan thinks it's kind of weird. But not so weird that she can't get over it, because the heel of Elliot's hand is grinding against her clit and Elliot's fingers are hitting that spot. So Jordan admits it, and she feels more than sees Elliot's victorious smile as she comes, clenching around her fingers.

When Jordan snaps out of her fantasy world, she looks up at Perry.

"You know," she muses, "I don't think it would be that bad."

The End

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