He's a Trickster, Dr. Cox
I am not a werewolf, I am not a werewolf, I am not a werewolf…
Dr. Cox had never liked werewolf movies. The idea was so overdone, so cliché, that he loathed them nearly as much as he did Hugh Jackman. Almost. It was annoying, all the werewolf films coming about nowadays. New Moon, the Wolfman, Underworld. Pah.
Oh, look, someone's getting ripped to bits by a big bipedal wolfie! Pfft. It wasn't even that scary, anyway. He'd lived through scarier shit than that-- no thanks to his father.
He stared down at his open palms that suddenly seemed so much bigger than before, and the now clawed fingernails. He swallowed. He could handle a manicure, no problemo.
I am not a werewolf, I am not a werewolf, I am not a werewolf…
Wincing at a sudden burst of pain, he decided to pull off his shoes, too. Okay, he could handle a manicure and a pedicure. No big deal.
Dr. Cox was infamous for his tendency to have extremely stubborn fits of denial.
I am not a werewolf, I am not a werewolf, I am not a werewolf…
He bit and filed at his nails until they were stubs, but it didn't matter-- they grew right back a few seconds later. He didn't care what Keith said, he wasn't going to accept it, because there was no way in hell.
Werewolves just didn't exist.
I am not a werewolf, I am not a werewolf, I am not a werewolf…
(The night before.)
Dr. Cox treasured the rare moments where he could just relax on the lounge couch, in total silence. Hell, he might even be able to catch a short nap. For once, today the hospital didn't seem to be trying to screw him over.
He was going to take full advantage of not being bombarded with annoying-ass interns, and worst of all, Newbie, who for some reason (that he didn't care about) wasn't working today; Kelso said something about a conference across town and that Dr. Dorian should be back in the morning.
Perry, however, took pleasure in imagining that 'Dr. Dorian' was never coming back.
But then he heard footsteps.
"I could tell you were one from a mile away, y'know. You must be pretty good, to hide it for this long. That's a good thing, with him hanging around." Pretty-Boy Keith-- Barbie's boyfriend?-- said in a conversational tone. Casual, almost.
The Irishman should have known it wouldn't last.
He didn't even bother to look up, "I would ask what the heeell you're talking about, Pretty-Boy, but I just remembered that I don't care."
"Aw, c'mon, Dr. Cox, no one's around, you can admit it." Pretty-Boy probably thought he sounded clever.
"Still don't care." It was times like these that he almost missed Newbie-Theatre. Nelly wouldn't have hesitated in explaining what she was talking about if she were here.
But Newbie wasn't here, and Dr. Cox was glad for it. Really.
There was a pause. Sounding surprised, Keith said at last, "You don't know? But-- shit. You must be new, then. One of his... hell…"
Yep, Newbie-Theatre would do him good right about now. It was annoying, yes, but he knew how to deal with it. At the moment, he couldn't tell if Pretty-Boy was being serious or not, where he always could with Sally-Anne. The weird comments she made after snapping out of a daydream always gave it away. "Okay, now I'm curious. What are you babbling so insanely about?"
A flash of fear darted across Pretty-Boy's face at the Irishman's growling tone, but he began nonetheless, "Dr. Cox," Keith took a breath, as if bracing himself, "have you been… bitten, by anything lately?"
He had, in fact, been bitten some mangy stray dog just the night before.
He remembered the pure wavy blackness of the large dog's fur, how the highlights appeared blue in the dark moonlit night as he walked home to his apartment (his Porsche was in the shop). He remembered thinking that whoever the owner was must love their dog a helluva lot, because he'd never seen such a well-groomed coat before. Smelled like shampoo.
He remembered the bright blueness of the huge dog's mysterious, glittering eyes. How intelligent they had looked. He remembered cautiously reaching out to pet it, shamelessly in awe of its beauty. He recalled patting its soft, silky head.
He remembered it biting him half a second later.
Then he remembered… nothing. He just woke up in his room, in his bed, nothing but a two scars where he could still so vividly see the animal's gleaming white fangs sink into his flesh. He knew it had been real, he just knew.
But what did it matter? "No, I have nawt. Why do you care, may I ask, Pretty-Boy?"
Keith didn't answer. "I'm guessing it happened pretty recently, because you don't have the look."
Now he was getting annoyed. Not that wasn't already. "'Look'?"
"Yeah," Keith swallowed, "the look."
Finally, Perry sat up straight on his elbows and glared at Pretty-Boy with all the menace he could muster, "Do I even want to know what this so-called look is?"
Keith got that wide-eyed deer-caught-in-headlight look, as he always did whenever either Dr. Cox or Barbie was mad at him, but he didn't stop, "It's pretty important that you know, yes."
"Well," Perry rolled his neck and bared his teeth in a sarcastic grin, which grew wider when his bones gave a satisfying crack sound. "By all means, tell me, then."
Keith stared at him, still with that terrified expression, seemingly unable to utter a sound.
Dr. Cox cocked his head to the sight in mock curiosity. "Ahem. Out with it." He commanded, making a small gesture with one hand that had no relation whatsoever to the subject at hand.
Again, Pretty-Boy swallowed. Harder this time, really preparing for something that he probably thought was important, in which case it was of no importance whatsoever to Dr. Perry Cox.
"Sharp teeth, bigger than you before…" Keith began, before abruptly blurting, "You're a werewolf."
Aaaand time stopped.
Now the Irishman was just nawt going to let that slide. "Run that by me again?" It was times like these that he really appreciated the fact that his voice could get low and gravelly if he wanted it to.
Though, it had never quite sounded so growly before. Interesting.
Keith, however, flinched at the sound, but for other reasons. "It's gonna happen soon."
Dr. Cox rolled his eyes juuuust a bit overdramatically, but then again there was ju-hust never enough drama in his Godforsaken life, now was there? "I don't even wanna know, do I?"
Looking more than a bit anxious, Keith said urgently, "Dr. Cox, I know you won't believe me now, but you've got to--"
"I've gotta do nothing that you tell me to do, nutcase." Perry spat, jumping up onto his feet in one jerky motion and stalking away. So much for his quiet break. "How does Barbie put up with you? Oh, right, I forgot-- she's even crazier than you are." And he sure as hell meant it.
"Wait! Just listen!"
Pretty-Boy sounded pretty serious. Dire, even. But what insane person didn't? 'The end is nigh! We're all going to die!' Feh.
"There's another werewolf-- totally black!"
Aww, now why's it gotta be a black thing? The image of the big black, wolfish dog from the night before flashed through his mind and Perry walked a little faster.
"If you see him, RUN!"
Or else there will be black-on-white violence or whatever-the-hell? Pretty Boy, you racist. Liiiittle bit faster with the feet now, Per-Per.
"He's vicious, Dr. Cox. He turns you, and then he'll tear you apart! I've managed to stay out of his way so far, but… he's really good at hiding it in his human form, Dr. Cox…"
How terrifying. Where's a Hollywood director when you need one? He could see it now: A werewolf who turns a person just to kill them, and a heroic young man with a destiny like no other! Blahblah.
"I'm serious, man. He'll kill you!"
Keith's voice was becoming more distant.
"Be careful!"
Perry snorted as Pretty-Boy's voice finally died down. Time to get back to work. For a second he wondered if he should warn Barbie about her boy-toys apparent craziness; but realized that she probably already knew, that was probably why she'd hand-picked him anyway.
Crazy people are attracted to other crazies.
Thus, the law of nature.
Because, honestly. Werewolf. If that wasn't a load a shit right there, Perry didn't know what was. He'd gotten bitten, so what? It wasn't like he'd suddenly be thrown into some bloody horror film or whatever. That, obviously, only happened in-- you know-- films. And TV.
He didn't need his brain to get anymore rotted, thank you ve-hery much, which was what would've undoubtedly happened if he'd listened to another word Pretty-Boy had been spouting.
By the time his shift ended, he'd completely forgotten about the whole incident.
A/N: I believe I just may be the first one to post a (experimental) Were!Scrubs fic. I'm not quite sure how long this is going to be. I already have three other chapter-fics I need to work on (one of them being Scrubs), so I'm just getting this out of my system now to be rid of distraction. Yes; Keith is also a werewolf. Why did I choose Keith? …I dunno. I felt like writing a character that I've never really used before.
Who is the black wolf? Guess. Might be obvious, might not be.
I hope you guys liked it! I certainly had fun writing it. I think I might've really channeled Perry there, at least somewhat. 'Til the next installment!