My Best Friend's Suspicion

by newbie1990

Turk and Carla are both entirely convinced that JD is in love with Dr. Cox. JD is less convinced.

Title: My Best Friend's Suspicion

Pairings: Cox/JD, Turk/Carla, Cox/Jordan, vague Janitor/Elliot

Rating: PG-13-ish? Maybe?

Summary: Turk and Carla are both entirely convinced that JD is in love with Dr. Cox. JD is less convinced.

A/N: First ever attempt at writing Turk. Ever.

Editor: Betaed by the ever-lovely rionaleonhart. I think her name is Riona on here. I don't know.

Disclaimer: If I were Bill Lawrence, I would have better things to do. And if I attempted to make money from this, people would laugh at me.

I knew it was going to be one of those days when I woke up. Usually I'm woken up by Turk singing the 'I Got Some Last Night' song in the shower, and I'll yell, "Good one, buddy!" and Carla will just yell at both of us, but today it wasn't like that. Oh, no. Today it was different.

I would've expected to wake up screaming, considering the dream I was having. Instead of yelling at me and calling me the usual girls' names, Dr. Cox kept pushing me into supply closets and doing strange things to my ear with his tongue. But I don't wake up screaming. I wake up to Turk and Carla shaking me and giving me concerned glances.

"JD, man, are you O.K.? You kept yelling something about Dr. Cox, but in your sex dream voice… what the hell's going on?"

"You know what his sex dream voice sounds like?" Carla interrupts, staring at the two of us incredulously. "Oh, I have got to find a man who knows less about his best friend than he does about me."

"I know you smell like candy in the morning!" Turk yells after her as she walks out muttering to herself. Mmm…candy. 'The Candyman can…oh, the candyman can…'

"JD, snap out of it." Turk snaps his fingers in front of my face.

"I'll have you know I wasn't daydreaming; I was merely thinking about an amazing song."

Turk raises one eyebrow. "The Candyman song again?"

I frown. How can he read my mind so well?

"No, actually, it was…it was something else."

"Yeah, whatever. What the hell was this dream about Dr. Cox?"

"Oh, it wasn't about Dr. Cox from work, it was about this woman called Dr. Cox from a movie I watched last night."

Please don't see through the lie, please don't see through the lie…

"What was the movie called?"

"The, um…The Tale of Dr. Cox?"

"There's no such film."

"Yes there is, it's…it's…" I search frantically under the bed for the DVD cases of all the many DVDs I've forgotten to return over the years - I should really do that sometime…although the late fees would be huge…nah, I'll keep them. What's the worst they could do?

An alarming vision of the door being knocked down by two worryingly beefy men in riot gear pops into my head. "We're the Late Return Police," booms the alarmingly deep voice of one. And then they proceed to destroy the apartment, find my stash of unreturned DVDs and leave me with a bill for $50,000.

I realize thinking this while still hanging over the side of the bed is giving me an alarming blood rush, which, despite its nice tingliness, is probably not a good thing to sustain. I grab a DVD and swing upwards.

"Look," I say, flashing the cover briefly and then hurling it back under the bed again. "There you are. It exists."

"No, man, it doesn't," says Turk.

He sits down on the bed, which makes the bedsprings squeak quite a bit, leading to thoughts of whether bedsprings are really mice who turn into bedsprings whenever humans are around.

"Listen, Vanilla Bear, I know you have a sort of thing for Dr. Cox…"

"Hey, wait a minute!" I exclaim, interrupting the slander and lies. "We both know that if I was going to go gay it would have to be Tom from Radiology!"

Turk nods, a dreamy expression on his face. Tom is pretty.

After a moment, Turk shakes his head and glares at me. "No distracting me, JD!"

I hang my head in shame, and wonder what the appropriate time to wait before I start to say the names of lingerie models or Turk's favorite foods is.

"Anyway, as I was saying…"

"Heidi Klum!"

Turk crosses his arms. "Do you want me to bring Carla in here? 'Cause I'll bring Carla in here."

"You wouldn't dare. She's all mad at you for saying Jordan was hot last night."

"Oh, I would dare. Carlaa!"

Carla has superhuman speed and emerges at the door way too quickly.

"What, baby?"

"JD won't admit he has a man crush on Dr. Cox."

"That's what you two talk about?"

"That and how great you are, baby."

Carla rolls her eyes. I narrow mine. Turk is such a suck-up.

"Fine. You go wait for the pancakes to be ready and I'll have The Talk with JD."

Turk pulls his 'ha-I'm-back-in-her-good-books-and-you-get-yelled-at' smug face at me.

"JD," says Carla in her 'I'm-going-to-be-really-really-nice-to-you-so-you-better-damn-well-appreciate-it' voice, "you have to admit, your relationship with Dr. Cox isn't exactly…well, it isn't really the kind of relationship most residents have with their residency director."

I cross my arms. "That doesn't mean that I'm in love with him."

"We never said…oh, JD, is my little Bambi in love?"

"What? No! Why…why would you think that? I'm going to work."

And thus ended my waking up.

Of course, upon arrival at the hospital I have to put up with the most obnoxious patient in the world, Mr. Reinhard.

"Oh, well, if it isn't the guy who calls himself my doctor," he says in his whiny, nasal voice, glaring at me.

"Morning to you too, Mr. Reinhard," I reply, performing all the usual checks. Everything seems to be fine and dandy. The IV isn't leaking, his vitals are all good…and then, of course, I get the stupid idea to ask him how he is.

"How're things, Mr. Reinhard? The nurses treating you well?"

"How're things? I'm in hospital, Dr. Dorian, and I expect you to know how well I am from all these damn things I'm hooked up to."

Ugh. I cannot stay in the room with this guy another minute. He's depressing me more than the end of Gone With The Wind.

"Right. Well, I'll be off, then."

Unfortunately for me (oh, lucky, lucky me), the first person I bump into is Dr. Cox, who is standing by the nurse's station, flicking through a patient's chart. Oh, God. My hand leaps to my ear. And then away from my ear. And then back. And then…oh, God, he's looking at me.

"Morning, Dr. Cox!" I say in as cheerful a voice as I can muster, using my useless hand to wave.

"Ah, excellent, Polly, you've been popping enough of your mommy's happy pills to have jee-ust the right amount of energy to annoy the hell out of me all the good day long."

Well, at least he isn't abusing my ear. Which is a tiny bit disappointing, actually. Well, I would've been able to use it as blackmail material.

"Are you going to continue standing there admiring my Adonis-like physique, or are you going to get on with your job?"

"I'm…oh, I, er…wasn't looking at…"

Dr. Cox rolls his hands around in that 'if-any-more-words-come-out-of-your-mouth-I-may-well-have-to-sew-it-up' gesture of his. And then he pinches his fingers together.

"No more words for you, Annie."

I open my mouth, and he shakes his head while continuing to send me the Death Glare.

Fine. If he doesn't want to talk to me, I'll find Elliot. I flounce - no, not flounce, storm off to find her. It occurs to me that I didn't actually want to talk to Dr. Cox, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that he rejected my advances. Or…something that makes it sound less like I was asking him out.

Elliot is standing by Mrs. Weinsteiger's bed, trying to explain to Doug that when a patient yells, "Oh my God stop it you're hurting me!" they don't mean, "Please continue, Douglas. Pleasant day, isn't it?"

"Wassup, homies?" I ask as I approach.

"Oh, don't even try to pull that off," says Mrs. Weinsteiger.

Doug nods, nervously, as every single thing he does is done nervously.

Elliot turns to me. "We're fine!" she snaps, still using her super-high-pitched-beyond-even-dog-hearing-telling-off-voice.

"Dr. Reid, I promise, I'll listen to the patient next time. They're always right, after all!"

"No, Doug, that's the customer…" I can see Elliot's about to start another rant, so I send Doug on his way with a pat on the back.

"JD, I was handling it!"

"Elliot, calm down. Get a soda with me."

"I've sworn off soda ever since I saw on the health and fitness channel that it has more sugar than a regular chocolate bar."

"Well, come watch me get a soda, then."

"Shouldn't you be watching your waistline, too? I mean, don't get me wrong, but you're getting a little pudgy."

She pinches my side. Owies.

"I think you're getting a double chin," I retort.

"Oh my God, really! I knew I shouldn't have had that extra ham roll, but it just looked so tempting, sitting there all alone behind the counter, and I didn't want it to be lonely, so if you think about it I was really doing the roll a favor, although I guess rolls probably don't really care all that much whether they get eaten or not, although my mom did used to say that the Thanksgiving turkey cried when it wasn't eaten, although I guess that was just because she didn't want to let the maid eat it because she thought the maid was stealing her jewelry and she wanted to punish her - and then after that she said that all the food the maid cooked didn't like being eaten and so I should leave it and say she was a bad cook…"

She manages to say all that before I can get a word in. "Fine, I lied, you have a perfectly fat-free chin. Am I really getting tubby?"

"Well, kind of. But it's cute, like on a fat baby or Santa Claus."

Fat baby?

"Oh, I'm just fat now, no nice euphemisms?"

"Did I hear the word 'euphemisms'?" asks The Todd, appearing from behind a wall.

"Not those kind of euphemisms, Todd," says Elliot.

"Oh. No Chance To Make Crude Jokes Five?"

We both high-five The Todd-how can it not hurt Elliot when my palm is a ball of fire?! - and he dashes off to slap a nurse's ass or enter the Towel-Flicking Olympics.

"Fine. I guess I'm off soda, too. What do I drink now, hmm?"

"Oh, relax, JD, you're a guy, it's fine for you to get fat."

And of course Dr. Cox appears at this particular juncture. "This is a man?" he asks, pointing at me. He clasps his hands to his cheeks and gasps. "Now, now, Barbie, you can't just lie. This is obviously a fine example of the hormonal teenage girl. This particular one is the bubbly cheerleader-type, grade average of C, not particularly attractive but has just enough school spirit to make up for it."

I glare at Dr. Cox. "If I were a teenage girl, which I'm not, I would be very attractive and an honor roll student. And I thought I was in my twenties now in your insane world?"

"Noo, Ramona, you're nineteen. Sophomore year college student kept in despite your consistently low grades and poor attendance because of Daddy's money."

"You think about this too much," I tell him.

He shrugs. "Barbie, what have you got to say for yourself?"

"JD is a man, and you two are very screwed-up and should just spoon or whatever before you drive the rest of us insane!"

How did Carla get to her so quickly?

Elliot walks away with her head held high. So high, in fact, that she steps in the Janitor's mop water bucket. She apologizes profusely and the Janitor shakes his head and smiles kindly and dries off her foot with a towel and brings her a new sock and a heart candy to compensate for her ruined shoe. And when Elliot is walking away, he glares at me and draws his finger slowly across his throat. I hate the Janitor.

Dr. Cox glares at me. "Stop studying your boyfriend's ass and do some damn work!"

"I - he's really not…" Dr. Cox has already walked away, frightened interns scattering in his wake.

"I see you've been spreading rumors about us," says the Janitor, somehow right behind me. "You know, I can spread rumors too."

"No, look, I haven't…" Why do people keep leaving before I finish sentences?!

I decide to check up on my patients, firstly because I need to do so and secondly because I cannot cope with all these people accusing me of things I haven't even done!

First is Mr. Jackson, liver cancer, older guy, rambles a lot. I listen to him talk about dancing the Charleston with his wife for a while and then assign a nurse to take over listening duty.

Next is Mrs. Lipweiser, broken rib, really, really hot. I come up with a few excuses to smell her hair and then I go, blowing her a kiss when she isn't looking.

The list goes on and on, some serious, some complicated, some total assholes, and some less serious, uncomplicated, nice guys. I tell my coma patient about everyone accusing me of being in love with Dr. Cox and eat Mr. Barkson's chocolate pudding because he reads strange newspapers and thinks chocolate pudding has carcinogenic properties. It's his loss, it really is. I love pudding. Pudding, not Dr. Cox. Honestly.

When I leave the last patient's room, Dr. Kelso is standing outside with an evil expression and Ted quivering like a tall, bald, flopsweat-covered jellyfish beside him. "Dr. Kelso would like to know what exactly your aim was when you put up these posters," says Ted, looking at me with his sad, sad eyes and holding up a poster that says:

Dr. John Dorian

Are you or your loved ones suffering from a long-term illness for which there is no known cure?

Are you in agonizing pain day and night?

Dr. John Dorian has the answer.

Go peacefully.

Go fast.

Go call him now!

Dr. John Dorian, Professional Killer.

I will be hiring a professional killer to deal with that damn Janitor! Only…probably not. Morality and all that. Ted's sad-eye is turning into panic-eye.

"I…um, it was a bet, you see, my friend…" Kelso has already left.

"Why do people keep leaving before I've finished talking?!" I exclaim to Ted.

"I understand," says Ted, patting me consolingly. "Want to stand by the side of the road and try to pluck up the courage to run out in front of cars?"

"Er, no, thanks, Ted."

"Aw, c'mon. I've got lithium!"

"I have to go…do…something!" I run. Fast.

I keep running until I hit the nurse's station. Laverne looks up from her copy of People magazine. "Child, you need to calm down."

Carla smiles at me. "You OK, Bambi?"

"Well, first you told me…" I glance at Laverne. She looks up curiously. She can smell good gossip, I swear.

"Oh, don't think that I care about your business," says Laverne, goggle-eyed.

"Over here, Bambi," says Carla, dragging me away from Laverne. "What is it?"

"You - you said I was in love!"

Carla smiles again. "And why is that a problem?"

"I'm not! Well, maybe with Molly Sims, a little, but not - not…who you said!"

Carla crosses her arms. "And you expect me to believe that?"

"Well, given that I ought to be the first person to know if I'm in love, yes!"

Carla shakes her head. "Listen, Bambi, I love you, I really do, but you have to admit you're a little dense when it comes to things outside of your work."

"I am very offended! I have an IQ of 136 according to the quiz in Cosmo! My, er, girlfriend made me take it. I…I-I definitely didn't buy the magazine because it had a friendship quiz I wanted to take with Turk and an article on getting dynamite bangs…I don't want bangs…Would I look good with bangs?"

Carla shakes her head in confusion, blinks, and smiles at me again. "JD, just…oh, I think I'd have better luck talking to Dr. Cox."

"What? No…Carla, don't…please don't say anything!"

"Wassup, playa?" asks Turk, appearing as Carla disappears and raising his hand for a high-five.

I high-five back reluctantly.

"Things not good for the J-Dog?"

"Carla's going to talk to Dr. Cox. She thinks I'm in love with him."

"Well, dude, you kind of are."

"Turk! I thought we covered this this morning! It was a woman from…"

"…A nonexistent movie, yeah, I got that. I think that you'd be better off if you just admitted it. Although you better not bring him over to our place. I'm not having naked Dr. Cox all over my TV sofa."

"Our TV and reading sofa!" yells Carla.

"Yes, baby!" yells Turk in reply.

Naked Dr. Cox. I squint. My reaction really ought to be 'ew'. I don't like Dr. Cox in that way. He's my mentor. He's a father figure. He's…really really hot ohGodthey'rerightno.

I glare at Turk. "You made me like thinking about naked Dr. Cox!" I hiss.

Turk nods. "Yeah? Now, please don't answer this question…how many times have you confronted that mental image before?"

I blink. He does seem to emerge a great deal in my fantasies at strange and inconvenient moments. As a naked delivery guy. Or a statue. I'd always thought that was just my weird imagination focusing on work too much.

"Damn you, Turk, you've made it seem like a pattern!"

Turk widens his eyes in mock-shock and hisses back, "That's because it is!"

Laverne glares at us. (How did she get over here?) "Have both of you idiots forgotten that the man has an ex-wife? And just because she's a devil-woman don't mean that you can run off with her man without having to answer to Jesus."

I wasn't actually considering doing anything about it, I realize. Oh God, what if I did? I can't really think about practical things like people's reactions and Jordan. I'm too distracted by the tongue and the ear and Dr. Cox's broad shoulders and I hate Turk and Carla. Well. Sort of.

"Morning, losers!" calls Jordan, announcing her entrance. She looks particularly terrifying today. Her eyes are all glittery. I'm scared.

"Hi there, DJ. Why do you look like you want to pee your pants even more than you usually do? Have you been taking advice on looking nervous from Dr. Murphy?"

"I…ah…I'll be going now."

I race off in the opposite direction. Oh, no. It's The Todd and his hand of pain.

"Dude!" calls The Todd, "Why so worried? The Todd'll make it feel better." He nods, opening his arms. I really don't think I want to hug The Todd. I catch a glimpse of the Janitor looking menacing behind the wall. Clearly Todd-hugs are my only escape. Ahh, it actually is rather…

"Hey! Todd! Why are you fondling my butt?"

"Oh, I thought that was comforting. Is it not? Would you rather I pinch it?"

"No!"

The coast is clear. I make a break for it, only to bump into, of all people, Dr. Cox.

"Whoa, there, Josephine. Steady now, I know you need a new exercise routine to get rid of all that lard you're packing, but trust me, sweetcheeks, no boy will ever take you to the Spring Fling if you knock them down on the way to class, even if you are in the coolest sorority on campus."

Oh, God. It gets worse.

"Hi, 'sweetie'," says Jordan, kissing his cheek.

"What, it's not hellish enough to have you there every night when I come home, now I have to suffer you at work as well?"

"There's a board meeting. Or would you rather I sat at home and stagnated and slowly grew more and more discontented until eventually I took to comfort eating and ended up the size of your little protégé-slash-manservant-slash-punching-bag, hmm?"

"Hey!" I exclaim. What is with people and my size today? That's it, no more pizza rolls before bed for me.

"Oh, relax, DJ, I'm kidding. That tall guy paid me five bucks to make a crack about your weight."

"Nobody paid me," says Dr. Cox, grinning.

I give them both the patented JD shame-on-you eye, guaranteed to induce guilt in all who see it. Except the Janitor.

Neither of them looks particularly guilty. "Jessica, now don't tell me you've gone and developed a squint…was it her?" He turns to his ex-wife. "Jordan, I thought I told you; only torture Kelso with your evil powers."

"It's my guilt-making-eye!" I exclaim. "Why are you both immune?!"

"Well, she has no soul and I just don't give a crappity-crap, flying or otherwise, about you, Doris."

I glare at him. He does care! He will care once I try my Cosmo mind-tricks on him!

"Clara-poo, if you could just sashay on down to the lingerie department instead of standing there pulling strange faces at me, that'd be just dandy."

I resist the very strong urge to blurt, 'They aren't strange faces! They're subtle changes to my features that will make you love me!', and instead leave, my head held high.

"That's it, DJ, work it! Good ol' Per-Bear loves to see you shake it!"

I ignore Jordan's irritating whoops and Dr. Cox's muttered threats of stabbing Jordan in the eye with her false nails. I have to find Elliot. Elliot knows all about dysfunctional relationships.

Unfortunately, Elliot is talking to the Janitor, who has bought her a pair of shiny new shoes because her old ones were ruined by the mop water. If that were me, I would have to buy him a new bucket! And he would pour water over my shoes every day as retribution for contaminating his mop water! And now Elliot is hugging him. I hate the Janitor and his stupid soppy expression. This hug is going on for far too long. Eventually, they break apart, and Elliot beams and the Janitor sighs happily.

"Look!" says Elliot, spotting me. "Look what the nice Janitor gave me! He's such a lovely man."

"No, Elliot, you are a pawn in his evil plot to kill me."

"Don't be so horrible! He gave me a candy to give to you. He likes you."

"It's probably poisoned."

"No, it is not! Look, I'll eat it to prove you wrong."

However, as soon as she unwraps it, the Janitor makes an impressive dive and knocks it out of her hand. Elliot blinks at him with wide eyes.

"They've been recalled. Apparently they're…made from bear meat."

"Aww, those poor little bears!" coos Elliot. Stupid Elliot, believing his lies. I send a telepathic message of hate to the Janitor. I hope he doesn't get it. I might, y'know, die.

The Janitor smiles at her and leaves, 'accidentally' crushing my poor tootsies on the way.

"Ah, Elliot, I kind of have something I need to talk to you about. It's about Dr. Cox."

"Oh, God, has he found out about something I did wrong? Is…is he going to fire me? Oh, God, I'm going to have to work at a taco stand! I'm going to have to dress up as a hot dog and sing… I can't sing, JD! My mother's going to kill me… I'm going to have discounts on the food, and it'll be too tempting, and I'll get fat, and she'll send me to a fat camp and visit every day… oh, JD, you have to save me, he listens to you!"

"Elliot, it's about me and Dr. Cox. Try to listen before you speak."

"Well, you don't. Do you remember when we were dating and I was going to ask you if the pink dress went with my eyes, but you thought I was going to ask you if I looked fat and you said, 'Yes, you do look fat, but in a good way.' I still cry about that sometimes now…"

"Elliot. Talking about me here! Ah…the point is…um, know you like Dr. Cox, JD. You always have. How is that news?"

"I…like him like him."

"Ohh…JD, I'm so happy for you! I have to tell Carla, we knew you were going to admit it someday soon – oh, we can throw you a coming-out party! With cake! Low-fat cake! And balloons, and that nice Janitor can come, and there'll be dancing, and we can invite the cute new guy from Cardiology, and he'll dance with me if I do my hair just right so that it looks like that nurse who wears too much lipstick's, and I'll wear the green dress I bought for my high school reunion – I was practicing for the moment when I saw Cindi Bellamy, the head cheerleader, and I spilt orange soda all down it, and that was the night before the reunion. My mother was so disappointed. She wanted all the other moms to know I was a doctor and I hadn't gotten fat like their daughters without having to boast. I think that's the nicest thing she's ever said to me… anyway, I managed to get out the stain, but it was too late… what?"

"Elliot, what do I do about Dr. Cox?"

"You could send him flowers. Or chocolates. Or you could follow him around all day smiling at him like a goofy idiot in love. Like you do already."

I scowl at Elliot.

"I am not goofy. Anyway, that hasn't worked yet, has it?"

Oh, God, high pitched whistle.

"Kathryn, so glad to see you and Barbie get together for a good old gossip about just how cute that boyband singer you both love so much is, or how that movie star and the other movie star who have jee-ust the perfect relationship fell out, and therefore you can never look at love in the same way ever again, or the new shades of toenail polish from Maybelline, or whether you should curl your hair for Shannon McPopular's Big Birthday Bash or whatever the hell you gals whine on about these days, but I think we need to have a good long chat ourselves. Bring yourself over here and leave Blondie behind."

I follow him, feeling both strangely cheerful and apprehensive. He wants to talk to me!

"According to Carla you've been having some strange dreams. You should probably talk with a doctor about that."

And then his hands are gripping my shoulders (he has such strong hands) and his lips are…with the crushing, and oh, there's a tongue, and then eep, his hands are moving, and his tongue isn't in my mouth any more, it's in my ear, and I think I may very well explode.

"Wait!" I squeak (I do not squeak often. I am a calm and measured person. Because I am a manly man), removing him from my person with some effort, "You have an ex-wife! Laverne said…"

He squishes my cheeks together with his hand so I cannot talk. Hee, that makes a funny face. It also hurts quite a bit.

"Peach pie, have ya seen us? We're not exactly a normal couple. This right here is fine. But probably shouldn't be boasted about to your little gang of assorted morons anyway. Because that may result in it not being a regular occurrence."

Regular occurrence? I'm about to grin and possibly hug him for being so wonderful, when I am pushed into a supply closet and my thoughts become incoherent noises. None of which are remotely girly-sounding. At all.