Disclaimer: NBC owns Scrubs and everything associated with it. I own this story. There is a difference.
Authors Note: I know, I know, it would never really happen. Ever. But it was fun to write. And yes, I know that the canon is utterly screwed. Alternaverse, anyone?
"I think you're lying."
"Harsh words, there, woman." Turk took a bite of his sandwich. "And don't you know I would never lie to you?"
"One would hope so." Carla leaned over a little and her sweet-smelling lips were against her fiancee's, if only for a moment. "But that doesn't change the fact that you are lying to me."
He pouted. He wouldn't admit to it later, but he pouted. "I'm just saying that our little JD has apparently found love with the janitor. And that there's nothing wrong with that, it's just kind of icky. And wrong. And icky."
"I suspect I'm doing something I'll regret later on, but right now it is so worth it!" Dr. Cox slid in across from the couple. "Did I just hear you two little lovebirds correctly, or is there something crazy stuck in my ear? Is that pest they call my protege really that insane and/or stupid?"
Dr. Cox was the only man in Sacred Heart who could pronounce the forward slash correctly.
"Dr. Cox, I don't think we should be talking about this. I mean, he is my best friend and all—" Turk started.
"What, about Bambi and the janitor? From what I heard, it's been going on a while now." Carla said.
"—and I don't feel comfortable discussing this with people we work with." Turk finished, rather more quietly than he had started.
"Really now," Dr. Cox said. "And all this time I had assumed they were mortal enemies, the way they kept trying to kill each other. Silly me. Maybe I'm just too stupid to see the connection. Maybe they have a loving, caring relationship right under my nose and I'm just... so... stupid, that I can't see one damn connection between them." The infamous Cox Glare came out. "If you're going to humiliate poor Sally Sue, at least have the evidence to back it up and my god, people! The janitor? I could make up a better story than that, and I failed sophomore English." He got up, still frowning. "Now get back to work."
Dr. Cox was also the only man in Sacred Heart to ever successfully storm out of the break room even when you had to jiggle the knob to get the door open.
"See this here? This is what happenes when you tell people what's none of your business." Turk sat back, defeated. "And it's not like I said it was really going on. Just that there were things that keep happening."
"I think it's actually very sweet. My book on relationships says that sometimes, when people act like they hate each other, it really means that they have feelings for each other." Carla said. "And even though it's really, really strange, I think it's cute, in a weird, icky way."
"But it's JD. His screen door doesn't swing that way."
"Sometimes the people you know most are the most surprising." Carla smiled. "I'm still learning new things about you."
"Is this about that thing on that place? Because I know you know about it, and if it really matters to you, I can have it removed. It's a simple procedure, I could even get Todd to do it—"
"Baby, I do not care at all about your third nipple." Carla waited for Turk to finish looking around to see if anyone was within a twenty-foot radius with their ears turned towards them before continuing. "I'm just saying, everyone has a deep dark secret. Maybe we just found Bambi's."
"I hope to God I'm not right."
"I know, baby."
"I don't think those are on right," said JD, staring intently at the side of the machine.
"Stop your whining, of course they're on right. What, you think I can't fix a simple electrical problem?" The janitor flexed his shoulders, working out a kink in his back. "And the last time you said something wasn't on right you were referring to my toolbox."
"Okay, okay. Not what I meant." JD fiddles with the straps on his helemt, fidgeting around in the smallish box. "We're ready for another test run?"
"You say that like you think it won't go." The janitor leaned in closer to the other man. "You know, I think you think we'll never get this thing to work. And I say you're wrong."
"I think it'll work."
"Even Thomas Jefferson had to make multiple lightbulbs until he found out how to work it."
"That was Benjamin Franklin."
"Really? Huh. So you're saying I'm dumb now. Couldn't pass eighth grade history, could I? That all those college days spent in theoretical physics was all a dream? Oh, and it felt so real."
To JD, being stuck in a metal box with the janitor when he was in a mood, in the back room of some godforsaken basement storage space was at least the sixth circle of hell. Maybe seventh.
"No, no, no. Please, can we just fire this thing up? My break is nearly over." JD said, staring at the endless array of buttons, knobs and switches before him.
"Fine. But I'm not forgetting this." The janitor reached over and flicked one switch up. The machine hummed to life.
"You know, most of your friends think we're making out back here," The janitor said. "They've got theories on it and everything. Strange people."
"I know. They are so off track." The digital clock, courtesy of Bob Kelso's office wall, started counting down from fifty.
JD smiled. John Dorian and the Janitor—Time Adventurers. He liked the sound of that.