Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs.

Welcome to my first ever Scrubs story, The Wanters Creed. Yep, I understand there should be a ' in Wanters, but meh. It looked funky. Anywho, I've been a huge Scrubs fan for a while now, and I figured that it was time that I started writing it. Having dwelled in the anime section for years, I hope that my unorthidox way of writing doesn't put anybody off or what not, I also hope that the narration makes sense. I read it through a few times, and it did to me, but you know, I am insane, so like, yeah.

Anywho, enjoy the first chapter and I'll be back with more later. Kthxbye.

--Dyeh



The Wanters Creed

A JD x Cox Story

--Chapter One--

I, John Dorian, am a man of many problems. For one, I've never been able to hold down a steady relationship, with, well, anybody. I have a bad habit of looking like somebody from the gay community, and I fear commitment. However, my greatest unwanted personality trait is the fact that I want what I can't have.

Take Carla's muffin for instance. Right now, Carla is eating the muffin that Turk got her from Starbucks for Breakfast as she's been working double shifts. Now, all it takes for me to desperately want that muffin is the words;

"No, Bambi, this is my muffin." Carla glowered, holding the Blueburry muffin in one hand and picking at it with the other.

My eyes lit up at once, focused solely on the muffin that I wanted but couldn't have, because it was Carla's muffin. And I couldn't take Carla's muffin away from her... or could I? No! No I couldn't!

See? I now want Carla's muffin for the simple reason that she has it, and has told me that I can't have it. I don't even like blueberries, dammnit! What in the hell is wrong with me?

Today was a slow day. Maybe that's why I'm brooding over my main, personality issue. In fact, as of – I glanced down at my watch – now, I'm officially off call. I should probably go home, put my feet up, watch some TV...

I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder. This tap was immediately followed by a thumping of a patient's chart on my head, and the words; "Come'n Sandra. We have to see Mrs Jones."

Out of instinct, I whirled around and followed Dr Cox to wherever Mrs Jones' room was – she wasn't even my patient, dammnit! – and tried to explain bluntly to Dr Cox that I was off duty in the most sophisticated language that I got off duty three and a half minutes ago.

"Actually, Dr Cox, as of three and a half minutes ago I'm off duty---"

"And I care, why?" Came the curt reply, immediately, without missing a heartbeat. "Look, Newbie, I don't really care if you're officially off duty four and a half minutes ago-"

"Three and a half," I butted in, correcting him.

"-Whatever. The point is; I don't care. You were standing around, so, I pretty much figured that you'd just jump to the occasion to help Mrs Jones to, I don't know, come into consciousness? I understand if you have manicures or beauty salons to go to, I do, but gosh darn it I figured people could use you here more."

"But, Dr Cox, that doesn't seem fair—"

A sharp whistle interrupted me. "Here's the thing, Paula, life is never, ev-eee-er fair."

God, what is his deal? I mean, seriously, I should be able to go home! That's right. I just have to go out of that door—

"Jessica, if you leave this room, I'm going to have hurt you."

I paused in mid tip-toed step, and turned my head back around to look at Dr Cox, whom was looking rather annoyed and expectant. Maybe it was best if I stayed put...

I mean, what is his deal, anyway? What is this, a prison? No... wait... if it was a prision then I'd be getting bum raped all over the place. ... Ow. Being bum raped sounds painful. Bum rape. Bum rape. Bum rape. Bum ra- What am I, some weirdo who likes inflicting pain on himself? EW! Then again, prison inmates do always go around in pairs... teams of sorts. I wonder if Turk and I could be a team. We'd be an awesome team...

Wait, that's it!

"Ooooh, I see now!" I said happily, using bold hand gestures and interrupting the comfortable silence that sometimes – very rarely – came between Dr Cox and I.

"You get, what, Tiffany?" Dr Cox asked, sounding completely uninterested, as he checked Mrs Jones' IV.

"You like the whole team thing going too! I knew you did! Because, like, why else would you invite me in here? It's so obvious! I knew that you liked me t-"

"Stop right there, Glenda." Dr Cox butted in, "I do not like you. Not, not, not, nooot like you. In any way or form. Full stop. In fact, you're nothing but an annoyance, but you know what, I figured that today you might learn something new from this patient who has been in a coma for almost four years. I don't know what kind of disgusting fantasies you were dreaming up in that soccer ball head of yours, Helen, but let's get one thing straight; I do nooot like you. Full stop. Have fun with your little school-girl crush, Valerie, but I am nooot taking you to the prom, oh-kay?"

"Well... I didn't mean it like that..." I said, feeling rather foolish. He took the piss out of me so often that I'm pretty sure I should be used to it by now, but, evidentially, I'm still feel a little bit silly when he rants... and when he calls me girls names..

"How about, not finished? Anyway, Newbie, as much as you may have girly crush-like dreams about me at night, you will never hit this."

I stared into the flashing, angry eyes of Dr Cox. He was mad, granted, but there was just something about him. Something appealing... My eyes widened considerably as I realised just what that thing was.

Oh Christ, no!

To Be Continued