ATC My Fallen Idol

"Where to, Sheba?" Perry asked JD as they bombed along the wide, empty boulevard.

JD turned to look at him, watching as the older man focused on the road ahead, his hand absentmindely grasping the gear shift, moving up and down and around it, as if caressing a woman.

Or a man, JD thought.

His acute talent for visualizing asserted itself, as it often did. He liked being able to picture things so well, replaying particularly erotic or hysterically funny scenes in his head. Things he'd seen, things he'd done himself. He thought about some of the lovely women he'd been with in his young life.

One especially delectable memory replayed itself in his mind, as he continued to stare at Perry's hand gripping the gear shift lovingly.

"Hm," JD moaned, his face relaxed, his eyes unfocused as happens when he's in one of his daydreams.

"What're you thinking about, Delilah? Quit staring at me."

JD jumped out of his reverie and blushed for about the millionth time that evening.

"Oh, uh, I was thinking about, uh, a girl I was with once."

"Just a girl?"

"'I'm just a girl, yes I'm only a girl'," JD started to sing.

"Hm, Gwen Stefani, now THAT is a girl! God, I want that woman. There's something about her... Hell, even Jordan said she'd do her, and she's straight!"

"Hey, Per, have you, uh, well you know, been with...." Dare he ask? Something's been going on tonight, he's been so open, this'd be a great chance to ask him stuff I've never dared ask before.

"I mean, been IN, well...."

"C'mon, Alicia, spit it out! God, you keep talking tonight without saying a damned thing! Like where I'm taking you. I'm dead tired, so I hope it's not too far. You told Ghandi you might crash in the on-call room."

JD realized that after the earlier terror of wondering if he was going to be a quadriplegic come morning, if Perry's Porsche was harmed in any way, he was dead tired too. As the crow flies, he knew his apartment was the farthest away, the hospital next, and the closest of the three possible places to sleep was Perry's condo.

"Okay, let me sort through what you just asked. Firstly, I was going to ask if you'd ever been in a three-way," he said non-chalantly, as if he asked men things like that on a regular basis. That was the Todd's pervue, not JD's usual style. "Secondly, I'll go anywhere you take me, long as I can lie down."

Perry glanced at him, not saying a word. "Anywhere you take me?" he wondered. He'd been feeling it all night, these vibes coming off his protege. Perry Cox had always been empathic, which was one reason he became a doctor. People didn't realize that he exhibited such a harsh, demeaning persona to counteract the fact that he was surprisingly sensitive. Jordan knew him, down to the core of his being. He was beginning to show some of that core to JD, now that he had acknowledged the younger man as a friend.

And here that quack of a shrink he'd been seeing said he didn't have any real friends. He did in Dr John Dorian.

"Anywhere I take you?" Perry asked, keeping his eyes on the road and not on JD. The poor boy was already going through a personal hell tonight. Hell, or maybe a transformation. A realization.

That comment about his nipples had driven a sharp stab through Perry's gut, and he knew. What could he do about it, any way? He knew how the body worked, of course. Knew that subtle, subconscious cues could be registered in the primitive hindbrain, things Humans don't consciously realize. Like pheromones. They must be permeating the car, he thought, softly smiling at the image of the little molecules making the rounds between him and JD.

Sliding into those olfactory lobes, surely.

"What?" JD asked when he saw that soft, secretive smile.

"Well, let's see, firstly, yes I have been in a three-way. Secondly, I'll take you."

JD didn't say anything for a few seconds, waiting for the rest of the sentence. "Take me where?"

"I'll just take you."