John Dorian's underwear.

A vital piece of evidence!

What else could prove that the peeking tom of a scoundrel had been stealing looks into the Janitor's humble abode? Why! Initially, it had been innocent. Just a simple misunderstanding of watching Janitor shower with the girly man's pants not quite secured. Then! It had worsened. Never fear, however! For the Janitor himself had discovered an incriminating clue, on his own front lawn, too!

...On Dorian's lawn.

Which Janitor was standing on. Dripping wet. In torrential rainfall. He lived in California, what the hell?

The door to Dorian's home swung open. "I leave my stuff out here to dry, and it starts to rain? This is California!" He jumped like a frightened rabbit when he spotted the taller man. "WHAT THE FREAK?" His jaw dropped... and so did his pants.

Ah-ha! Janitor mentally sing-songed, as Dorian scrambled to pull them back up. "Why is my belt tied around your head?"

Janitor shrugged, nonchalant, "It was there. I needed a bandana to complete my disguise." A simple solution.

"...You're wearing my clothes."

"Necessary evil."

Scooter buried his face in his palms. Huh, Janitor hadn't even planned this, and yet he was still killing two birds with one stone. Brilliant improvisation! Neat.

It took awhile before the younger male could bring himself to raise his eyes again. Said gaze landed on the undergarments held in the custodian's hand, and stayed there for a few several long heartbeats. Eventually, they slowly drifted to the arm connected to the appendage. Rainwater cascaded down it like a mini-waterfall, made of... arm. It was absolutely terribly humid, in that thick, suffocating sort of way only a Cali-born person could properly describe, and since Californian weathercasters couldn't predict worth a damn, Janitor had brought along no jacket for himself.

Dorian screwed his eyes shut tightly, "Oh god," and jerked his thumb over his shoulder into his house, "Get in."

Janitor grinned, to which JD eyed him warily in response, "Gee, thanks a lot for the hospitality, Scoot," he patted the doctor's back heartily, sliding past him into the cozy warmth of the doorway, and then the hall. John mumbled something unintelligible and made move to follow.

That was when the jumpsuited lurch slammed the door shut.

A/N: Not a single bit of this was meant to make any sort of sense whatsoever.