Dr. Betty Caduceus (doctor_caduceus) wrote in spirited_love,
Dr. Betty Caduceus

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The Guest Lecture 7a/??

So Jordan's the narrator of this part of this chapter, but since she's never gotten a "Her Story" ep, I kinda had to improvise. I kinda figured Jordan would narrate just like she talks to people, but since she can't see us, and we can't talk back, there are fewer personal attacks. Feel free to advise.

Fic: The Guest Lecture v1.5
Fandoms: Scrubs / House crossover (Set in Sacred Heart Hospital, my money's on Sacramento, CA)
Characters this chapter: Dr. House, Dr. Cox, Jordan, JD
Chapter rating:PG-13 for Greg and Jordan's foul mouths.
Overall story rating: NC-17 in parts, if I can make myself stop blushing, but relatively plot heavy overall.
Genre: Humor, angst, romantic, I think I hit everything but horror.
Warnings: Jordan narrating
Spoilers: Up to Scrubs Season 6, episode 7, "My Musical" and House, M.D., up to "Fools for Love," Season 3, episode 5.
The Guest Lecture 7a/??
Chapter Narrator: Jordan Godzilla Sullivan

Chapter 7a: The Appetizer

Rasputina, "The Olde Headboard"
Where'd you get the dumb idea for all the secretive platonic dating?

[Narrated by Jordan]

So Per stormed in the door like the crabby bastard he was, ignoring my very nice ensemble on which I'd spent a great deal of his money at Neiman Marcus.

"Suit up Perry," I called after him. "Time to schmooze."

Incoherent snarl, isn't he cute? He stalked back out of the bedroom moments later, fully dressed.

"That was fast. No shower? Just gonna reek of hospital all night?" Hospital, for your information, is a combination of sweat, that freaky soap they use, whatever soap the stethoscope or scalpel wielding bastard happens to use at home, his deodorant, his aftershave (you can hassle them about it from now until doomsday and you still never break them of it) and rubbing alcohol. Those psychos (they insist on being called 'doctors' and 'nurses,' the big babies) don't even smell it anymore. Or they get off on it.

"No time," Perry growled. "Jack?"

"With Danni."

"Oh good, I always wanted my four year old to know how to pole dance. Let's go."

"We've got like half an hour; don't you want to get a head start on getting drunk?" I asked, wiggling a scotch glass at him.

"We're picking someone up," he snapped, flinging the door back open. "Now you and that baby you ate get up and get the hell in the car."

"I'm not sure I'm in the mood for pushy Percival today. You are aware that you're no longer at the hospital, right?" I narrowed my eyes, setting the glass on the table. "And that Sally's your little bitch, not me?" He started banging his head on the door frame.

"I promise that if you get the fuck in the car you won't have to talk to me all night and there'll be plenty of strangers for you to turn into paraplegics with an unsolicited lap dance."

There are a lot of different flavors of Perry anger. Some of them are playful, some of them lead up to sex, some of them are just like a regular person's anger, just turned up to 50. (Yeah, the dial goes up to ten.) This flavor wasn't going to be any fun for me personally.

I grudgingly pushed myself off the couch with some effort.

"Don't help, Per."

"Next time eat a more nutritious baby, you cotton mouthed—"

"Blah blah blah, car," I snipped back. This was gonna be a spectacularly lame night.

Perry always drives like he's trying to kill us both, or in this case, all three of us, though not if Jack's in the car. Takes corners too fast, blows through lights that've just turned, floors that stupid little penis car and slams the breaks so fast I can feel his damn spawn bouncing of the walls of my insides.

"Who do we know that lives here?" I asked, looking at the quaint little houses on this street. He didn't bother to answer me. I resolved to find a rich young doctor with no willpower to suck dry this evening. Perry stopped at a lot empty except for a porch.

I have no idea why I was surprised when he dragged a relatively-well suited for his sorry little tax-bracket DJ out of a tent and tossed him in the back seat in the manner of a caveman.

"Why isn't Sally taking her little tricycle?" I asked. "Hey DJ."

"Hi Jordan," he sighed, wedged in the back. "Jack?"

"With Danni," I answered. "Did your little wind up toy break down again?"

"Sasha is just fine, I'll tell her you asked," he said, with what I'm sure passes for a nasty look in kindergarten in Candy Land. My not-husband buckled his seatbelt.

"No talking," he said, and started up the car. His not-daughter shifted around in the back.

"Is the car okay Per?" I asked, listening to this weird metallic sound.

"No talking," he replied.

"I really don't think that could be good. I mean that's not a good sound for a car to make, Per."

Silence. Of course.

"DJ, back me up. Is that or is that not a weird noise for a car to make?"

Silence from DJ? Oh, this was getting creepy.

"I'm sorry, DJ, I mean a grown up car, not one made out of wood or plastic or Lego bricks," I clarified.

"Um. I don't hear anything," he said, holding his hand to his throat.

"No. Talking."

"Yeah yeah yeah. There'd better be some cuter doctors from better hospitals at this thing," I grumbled. The Porche slowed as the light turned yellow, then red, and Perry didn't floor it the second it turned green. DJ was apparently an excellent automotive safety device. I filed this one away for future reference.

At the party, DJ ran over to his surgeon buddy like a scared little bunny rabbit.

"So since when do you care about red lights and speed limits, Per?"

"The 'no talking' rule has not been lifted, Jordan," he replied.

"Still not Sally. Your rules don't apply to me P…"

Oh, hello. I felt a weird pregnancy craving coming on. This wasn't exactly uncommon for me. When I'm pregnant, I've noticed that I have a tendency to want to see the man I'm with perform certain sex acts. Specifically, I like to watch him have sex with other men. God knows I'm not letting him touch me, not after knocking me up.

"Oh god," Perry said. "I know that look."

"I want that one," I said, pointing and grinning. There was this tall drink of water- no, more like a tall drink of bourbon, with big brown eyes, nice hair, and a slightly worried expression. So. Terribly. Cute. I wondered if I could get him and Perry to Jell-O-wrestle.

"That's a New Jersey product, you realize," Perry muttered.

"Mmm, that just makes it more dirty."

Perry gazed up at the ceiling.

"I'm starting to think that God does exist, and that He just really, really hates me personally," he said.

"Well how could He not?" I replied. "Let's go sit with them."

"Nnnnn!" Perry whined as I dragged him along. "I'm gonna get turnpike all over my suit!"

"You just sit there and look pretty, I'll do all the work," I said. As we got closer to the table, I recognized one of Perry's old antagonists from his early doctoring days. They'd gotten into a brief journal article war and nearly gotten into a fist fight at a conference until the medical community got tired of them both and decided to just ignore the two of them in the hopes that they'd start ignoring each other. Clearly, they didn't know Perry or Greg particularly well.

Too bad for Perry, I actually liked the evil bastard. And now, he was my in.

"Sullivan!" Greg said when he saw me, leaning on that totally phallic cane of his.

"Greg!" I called back, hobbling my pregnant ass over there, Perry in tow. We engaged in as decent a hug as we could between his gimpy leg and my parasite.

"Pericles," Greg said as we broke the hug and he pulled out a chair for me.

"Gregoyle," Perry replied.

"I thought you divorced this loser," Greg said.

"I did, but I like his hair," I answered.

"Is that his little hell spawn in there?"

"Yup!" I replied. "Who's your friend?"

What? I was pregnant, and patience is for doormats. I don't have time for subtle on a day when my hormones aren't rollercoastering around and I'm not being kicked in the bladder at ninety second intervals.

"This guy? This is James Wilson. He's an oncologist, all important and crap," Greg shrugged. "Wilson, this is Jordan Sullivan. She's on the Sacred Heart board, so she's also all important and crap. This is her mediocre life-mate Percival Cox."

Oh, Greg House, how I'd missed that rotten bastard.

"House, don't be a complete bastard. Hi, I'm Jim," he sighed, getting up and shaking Perry's hand and mine.

"Greg, I like! He's got vulnerability!2" I smiled. Jim let go of my hand and glanced at Perry.

"There's nothing that can be done," Perry said dejectedly. "I recommend you sit down and go to your happy place. Or join me at the bar, where I will be trying my very hardest… to die."

With that, Perry of course got up and went to the bar. Jim looked a little confused.

"Oh go on," I said, smiling with a friendly nose wrinkle. "Perry's a superfun drunk!"

Jim stood up, looking perplexed and a little afraid, and followed Perry to the bar.

"This is gonna be a fun night," I smiled. "So aside from the boring medical crap, how the hell are you?"

Greg sighed, rubbing his bad leg, popping a vicodin.

"Ah, same old, same old. I thought I'd be bored shitless but damn, the baby docs are good for a thrill."

"Yeah, every year or so I like to fuck an intern, see if anything's changed. They do appear to be getting more limber. I think I saw a few of them in one of my yoga classes. You got your eye on anyone I know?"

"Fluffy hair, kind of spacey, so naïve you just wanna lock him in a closet and destroy his belief in god the fun way…"

"How'd I miss that intern?" I exclaimed. Greg was like a wonderful bitchy girlfriend, and we had the same taste in snacks.

"Not an intern. Attending," he replied. My eyes got wide.

"He's over there, cowering between the bald surgeon and the nurse shark," he said, pointing his cane across the table. I craned my neck to look, since god knew my waist wasn't bending anymore, and sure enough, there was Sally and the Turkeltons.


"I thought his name was Johnny."

"It's actually JD, but no one actually gives a crap, he'll answer to just about anything," I replied. "How are you gonna pry him away from the Dr. Why Does It Hurt When I Pee? 3" I ask.


"Knocked-up urologist girlfriend." Greg nodded, now back on the same page.

"I'll figure something out," Greg said. "He seems like he's after something…"

"Oh, he wants a father figure," I replied. "Yeah, the impression I get from Perry's bitch sessions is that DJ's dad kinda sucked."

"I see… I can use that," Greg muttered, smiling.

"You can use it double, his crappy dad is dead and Perry over there flat out refuses to acknowledge any kind of role in that arena."

"Really!" Greg smiled.

"Yeah, drives him up the fuckin' wall every time the kid calls him his mentor, or looks at him like Daddy Warbucks."

"Little Orphan Johnny… that girlfriend doesn't stand a chance."

I looked back over at Perry and Jim at the bar. Jim had Perry laughing, impressive!

"So what's the story with Jimmy over there?" I asked. Greg shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes got a little glassy.

"Not looking for a father figure. Constantly cheating on women, painfully faithful to men."

"Faithful to you, huh?" I asked.

"You're just too sharp, Sullivan."

"Just not an idiot, Greg. So there's no chance that I could manage to snake him to play with Perry for my amusement?"

Greg laughed.

"Hell no. He'd never cheat on me."

"Even though you're getting all up on Sally?" I asked, still staring down

"Who?" he asked, with a little bit of a 'girls are icky' expression.

"Johnny, DJ, JD, Dr. Dorian!" God, I needed a translator.

"No matter what I do to Jimmy, he can never bring himself to do the same to me. It's just how it is," Greg answered. "Some pathological need to care about broken, angry things."

"Oh well. Gimme a vicodin," I said.

"You're pregnant, you moron! Besides, these are mine."

Sure Greg, there's no room to snake in there. I smiled.
Greg should've remembered that I had a broken, angry thing paternally obligated to do whatever I say.

2. Modified from one of Spike's lines from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
3. "Why Does It Hurt When I Pee" is a Frank Zappa song. God rest ya, Frank.
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