Disclaimer: Not mine. Never have been, never will be. Some days I cry.
Pairing: JD/Cox (Who else?)
Warnings: Slash, Angst, Perhaps a bit OOC-ness but I'm trying hard to avoid it!
Author's Note: Taking a break from My Reluctance, if only because having My Insatiable Mentor stolen broke my flow on that one. I'll be back on it in a day or two. But in the mean time- this. Although I have no idea what this is.
Never in public, of course, but in the privacy of Perry's home, when it was late and they couldn't sleep and sex might have been an option but the day had been too long they danced.
It might have made JD giggle, except that there was something so solemn and almost ethereal about those moments that there was nothing funny at all about them.
They were both doctors, life was hectic even on the best of days. They worked together, which meant that sometimes just the sound of each other's voices could grate until they were at each other's throats. Everything about them, and their relationship, was frantic motion.
But when they danced, to some quiet and slow tune that Perry would inevitably pick out, the movement was slow and purposeful. Nothing fancy, just hands on hips and shoulders, the slow sway of bodies in time with one another.
There was one time where Perry had twirled JD away from him and then pulled him back to dip him low. JD had smiled then, but he hadn't laughed. Because there had been nothing funny about the too-serious look of emotion of Perry's face.
They'd gone to bed after that, and danced a different dance.
The nights when Perry had Jack, who would always ask if his 'Aunt Carol' was going to sleep over, they danced the three of them as Jack fell asleep on either one of their shoulders.
When it was JD the boy fell asleep on, it warmed JD's heart in ways he couldn't fully understand to hold the child against him, to feel the warmth of him fit snuggly on his hip, little arms around his neck. In the light of day Perry might mock him about his biological clock ticking.
But those nights, Perry would simply watch the two of them for a moment before taking Jack from JD and putting him to bed. He'd come back out to put his arms around JD, standing with splayed legs so that he supported them both. JD would rest his weight against the older man and something like contentment would course through his blood.
Even then, it seemed that they danced.
Perry didn't know the man that jumped him as he was leaving the bar. He didn't get a good look at the face of the man who mugged him and then took a bat to Perry's knee. And his head. And his back. He didn't know if it was just a random insult when the man snarled 'faggot' as he lost consciousness, and spat in Perry's face.
When JD got the emergency message on his pager and called Carla at the hospital he'd assumed it was one of his patients. But through her tears he managed to hear the name 'Dr. Cox.'. And after that he was running. He grabbed the hooded sweatshirt he'd stolen from Perry nearly a year ago when they first got together, and he ran for the door.
Perry was in a coma for six weeks. The whole left side of his face was a mass of purple bruises and lacerations. The bruises got darker, and then began to lighten, and ended up a grotesque shade of yellow that made JD start sitting on his right side so it was harder to see them. They did three surgeries on his knee. Turk had led one of them. If he did wake up, there was no telling if he would walk again.
And all the while, late at night, when most of nurses and doctors JD knew were gone, he'd play something slow and quiet that Perry had played for them before and he would hold Perry's hand tight in his own as he swayed softly to the music.
He was determined, that no matter what, he would keep them dancing. The night nurses gossiped about it. He'd heard Carla telling off just about anyone who came to her with rumors and gossip about the crazy doctor in room 215 who danced with the guy in a coma. He didn't care.
The dancing, he knew, wasn't about the outside world. It was beyond that. It was about him and Perry. And all those things they never really talked about; Perry because he was too stubborn and JD because he was too scared. The dance, the movement, the music, was about love. And love, JD did, with a fierceness that only dreamers can access. And Perry loved, with the desperation and the violence of someone who'd been abused by love too many times to ever fully recover.
What they never said in words, what they might never be able to say in words, JD knew they said in those quiet moments when their bodies moved in time. And so he was determined, that no matter what, they would continue to dance.
It was as he was doing just that; swaying to a low song on the portable CD player, his hand gripping Perry's, that Perry woke up. He grunted and squeezed painfully hard on JD's fingers. And JD had stopped moving and just stared. He cried, he knew, but for the longest time he just stared into blue eyes the color of summer storm and knew, without doubt, that they would dance together again.
Almost always in public and sometimes, though not as often, in private. And it was a different kind of dance.
Being together didn't mean that they magically agreed on everything. Perry still called him girls' names, and demanded too much of him. And JD still needed a little too much, and cared a little too much.
They fought about patients. JD was beyond making newbie mistakes but that didn't mean that he had all the experience that Perry did. And Perry had years of experience, but was somewhat lacking in a fresh perspective.
There was one patient, a woman in her fifties with breast cancer, who had ended up in a medically induced coma. Her two daughters, like night and day, from the way they looked to the way they dressed to their beliefs in the medical field. The younger wanted to try something holistic, something spiritual, to help her mother. And the older, more conservative, wanted to keep her medicated and give her time. They fought. And Perry and JD fought. JD thought the younger daughter had merit, Perry thought she was new age nut-job.
They'd had a blow up about it in the locker that led to Perry telling JD that if he wanted to blow a smoke ring and chant around an unconscious patient while she wasted away without the proper medication than by all means he should go start killing her slowly right then. And JD had firmly, or as firmly as he could manage, told Perry he was too old and stuck in his ways. And then he'd fled.
In the end his patient had died before the decision was made. When JD went to the roof, feeling helpless and not the least bit overwhelmed, Perry had followed.
They fought about Jordan. JD had been convinced, in the beginning, that Perry just wanted to have sex on the side. And while he couldn't complain that the sex was good, it wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to destroy whatever future Jordan and Perry and Jack might have. And if Perry didn't want that future, then JD wanted him to be sure that the future he saw was with JD. Trying to say that in a way that didn't have Perry rolling on the floor laughing about how very much of a girl JD turned out be had been all but impossible.
In the end Jordan had called them both out for being idiots and demanded that if they were going to moon after each other that they do it somewhere she couldn't see because it was all making her sick, thank them both very much. Perry had fumed and stalked off. And later that night he'd ended up pounding on JD's door, in the very hoodie that JD would later steal from him, and tell JD without preamble that he belonged to Perry and if he had a problem with that he was going to have to kill himself now because that was the only way he was getting out of this.
And so even with words, harsh words and loud words, they still danced.
They fought about Perry's rehabilitation. Perry refused to listen to the doctors when they told him his chances of walking without help didn't look good. He didn't even listen when they told him he would be in a wheelchair for sometime before he even made enough progress to walk with an aide.
JD tired to talk to him, to prepare him for the worst, even while his dreamer's heart hoped for the best. But Perry wouldn't listen. He'd whistle sharply every time JD began the conversation. And eventually JD just stopped talking.
They fought about Perry's emotionally tattered state.
Four weeks after we woke up from his coma Perry began physical therapy. He refused to allow JD or anyone else for that matter, to go with him. JD, if he wasn't on shift, would wait in Perry's room. The other man would come back with his fiercest scowl on his face and say nothing. JD knew he was in pain, but he refused any medication offered to him.
Perry wouldn't let JD touch him. Even holding his hand had suddenly become off limits. Any time that JD would reach for him, Perry would move away. It was never obvious, always disguised by a move towards something else; a glass of water, a book, a pen. But JD noticed. And he knew Perry knew he noticed.
A week later, JD watched him berate the nurses that came in, insult his fully capable doctor, and threaten the life of a visitor who accidentally came into the wrong room. When Perry seemed to have exhausted his nearly limited reserve of irrational anger JD had moved to bed and climbed in with him.
It was okay, he'd whispered in his ear, it was okay to be scared and to be angry.
He hadn't really been surprised when Perry had sat up and shoved him. When Perry couldn't push JD off the bed he'd balled his fist and brought it up so fast towards JD's face that JD wouldn't have been able to react if he'd wanted to. And he'd hit. And it had hurt.
JD still hadn't left the bed. He put a hand to right side of his face, ignoring the stars in behind his eyes and simply looked at Perry. Do you feel better, he'd asked. And then, and only then, had Perry's face crumbled into a mask of broken pain. He buried his hands in his hair and pulled. His mouth was open in a silent scream, and there were tears in his eyes that didn't seem to fall. JD moved then, to wrap his arms around the other man's broad shoulders.
He had almost expected to be hit again, but Perry sagged silently against him, shoulders shaking. He didn't move away this time. And JD breathed a sigh of relief. When Perry's arms came around him and held tight, so tight it almost hurt, JD smiled softly and held on just as hard.
They made love.
It was sex at first. It was passion and lust and things kept in secret for too long suddenly let out into the light. It was furtive, in supply closets and locker rooms and very occasionally in bed. There was urgency to it, a near-panic.
There had even been on late night on the roof, after both had worked a twenty hour shift and were just too exhausted to think about how they were getting home. JD had been so loud that Perry had ended up putting his hand over his mouth, which JD thought was kind of hot in an almost kinky way.
The first time it wasn't was in JD's bed on a night when Turk and Carla had late shifts. Perry had let JD run slow fingers through his thick curls, and twine their legs together. He'd allowed JD to undress him, kissing every part of him as it was revealed.
That night changed everything.
It made it real, made it mean something. When they moved together it was slow and sweet and they seemed to hang on the edge of release for hours before they finally came together.
Perry still wasn't exactly sweet. He had his moments; moments where the ice left his eyes and the sarcasm left his voice. But JD didn't mind the moments when those things didn't happen. He'd fallen in love with Dr. Cox; the good and the sometimes very, very bad. And even if he wasn't coddled, he always knew he was watched over and looked after.
It was something, he'd realized that night, lying in bed with Perry snoring lightly beside him, that he had been looking for his whole life. It was something he'd never found until then. He'd moved closer to Perry, to warmth and heat, and Perry had grumbled sleepily and thrown an arm over him.
JD found that he was obsessed with Perry's body, with the various angles and planes of muscle. He could spend hours tracing his hands over Perry's body. Or at least he would if Perry had ever tolerated it. But it was rare that Perry had that much patience.
They made love. And it was dance. And it didn't matter to JD what the rhythm was as long as they moved together.
When Perry finally came home he was walking, despite the chances being against him, with a cane. He'd refused the wheelchair out of the hospital, had even gone so far as to throw it at the nurse that brought it. Perry was lucky it was a big girl who could take a hit and keep going, or he might have had an assault charge to deal with.
But the nurse had grimaced at JD and wished him the luck of it and left. She didn't get paid enough, she'd said with a slow raise of her eyebrow; to deal with doctor's who wanted to paralyze themselves.
JD had glared daggers at Perry, but Perry had ignored him and left the room, leaving JD to try to catch up to his surprisingly fast gait.
It wasn't until they got into the apartment that Perry sat down heavily on the couch and winced. His hand hesitantly touched his knee. But he'd stopped touching it when JD sat beside him and put his own hand over it. JD had watched Perry's impassive face as the older man stared out the window. Slowly he leaned over and pressed his lips against the soft fabric of Perry's sweatpants, kissing the injured knee.
When he looked up again Perry was watching him carefully.
I was worried, he'd said softly. You scared me, he'd whispered. And then his own tears had come, tears he hadn't let show before now, because it was important that he be the strong one for a little while.
He let his head rest lightly against Perry's knee, and sighed deeply through the tears when he felt a strong hand run through his hair. Nearly three months of tension seemed to drain out of him at the touch. The dam that had been holding everything in broke and he reached back to clutch at the hand Perry had placed on his back.
Afterwards Perry led JD to the bed, careful and slow, using JD for support more than his cane. He lay down and JD situated himself beside him, careful to lie on the side away from his injured knee. He kissed the side of Perry's face, across his jaw, until he reached him mouth and kissed him softly.
I won't break, Newbie, Perry had whispered, with a hint of his usual sarcasm. JD had nodded, his hands moving along Perry's hip to slip beneath the sweat pants he wore and knead the warm skin there. Perry took a sharp breath and used his arm to pull JD closer.
You won't, JD had told him quietly, but I might. And Perry has shaken his head and kissed him harder, tasting his mouth and the sweetness of him. He'd pulled the younger man until JD was straddling his hips, their erections pressing against one another in delicious heat he'd missed the last month or so.
JD let Perry set the pace after that. He let his worry go because he wanted Perry to enjoy this. And when he Perry was finally in him, filling him, and JD began to move above him, it felt right. It felt like refuge, like something that had been lost to him but was found again.
He might have said those things, in the heat of the moment, as Perry's hand grasped him firmly and began to jerk in time to the thrusts, because Perry chuckled low in his throat and told him he was the best girlfriend he'd ever had.
And even later that night, both dressed in warm sweat pants, warm bare chest to warm bar chest, they danced again for the first time in months.
They barely moved. Perry's knee was aching and JD was sore from the hours of lovemaking before this, but they danced.
And JD looked up at Perry and told him he loved him and that he knew Perry loved him.
Perry had growled and pulled him closer, kissing him softly to shut him up, but there had been a small smile on his lips when he pulled away.
And so they danced.
Author's Note II: I don't know if I like this at all. But I had Elisa's 'Dancing' stuck in my damned head for days and this is what came of it. So I figured, why not put it up? So let me know what you think.