AN: Don't own Scrubs, so don't sue. I wish I owned Scrubs, but the talented Mr. Bill Lawrence does, along with NBC and others. My last name is Lawrence, although I don't think that counts as ownership…

So, this is not my first fanfic, but it is my first one in the Scrubs 'verse. Please let me know what you think! I love reviews and I promise I'll respond! Enjoy!

Torturing him had been my "thing" from his very first steps inside the hospital. At first, he was no different from the other interns I've singled out to bother over the years. But there was just something…different about him. Maybe it was his ridiculous doe-eyes, or the way he would drift off into daydreams. God knows I couldn't explain it then any more than I can now. All I know is that I fell for him, hard.

So I bugged him, singled him out, pulled harmless pranks on him. Just generally treated him like crap to hide how I really felt about him. If he were to ever find out…well, I didn't want to think about that possibility. So I kept on with the torture, ensuring that he would never find out my real feelings towards him. But part of me wished that he could see that theses pranks weren't meant to hurt him, that they were the only way I could express my affection, as warped as it was.

When I first noticed how he reacted in the presence of Angry Doctor, I was confused. Whey, whenever the older man would rant at him, belittle him, put him down worse than I ever would, why oh why did he keep going back? Why was he so tolerant of Angry Doctor's wrath, when he was upset whenever I pulled a comparatively harmless prank on him? What trait did Angry Doctor possess that I did not?

It wasn't the nicknames, as I would find out. I had noticed that Angry Doctor never referred to him by his real name—no, it was always "Felicia" or "Judy" or the gender-neutral, belittling yet somehow endearing moniker "Newbie." After learning of Angry Doctor's habit, I started to call him "Scooter," but he didn't see it for what it was meant to be—my own twisted way of reaching out to him.

As I saw him grow closer to Angry Doctor, my behavior towards Scooter began to change. My pranks, once harmless and based merely on intimidation, became more serious, meant to seriously mess with his head. All it served was to drive him farther and farther away from me and into the arms (and as I would later learn, bed) of Angry Doctor. All of my pranks, his special nickname, had done the opposite of what I had intended. Instead of revealing my feelings for him gradually, I had instead pushed him away, making him think I hated him. I gave up all hope and despaired, knowing I had lost him forever.