Title: Queer


Author: summerdaysands

summerdaysands@hotmail.com

Type: dirty humor - Gen but a bit risque' - answer to PEJA's 5 Minute Challenge

Rating: R, I suppose.

Warnings: I don't know what to warn for here, exactly. I'll just say that the humor is a bit on the crude side and leave it at that. You have been warned. If you *really* have to know, email me and I'll tell you why it's iffy.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, made no money, have none to take.

Summary - Jim feels kinda queer. Blair thinks it's funny.

Notes: Not beta'd, but it's so darn short I think I got everything.



Queer
by Summerday Sands


"Wanna play, little fella?"

Blair's muffled words reached Jim's ears as if through a tunnel. Everything sounded wrong--his cold wasn't severe, but all his senses were dulled because of his clogged sinuses, especially smell and hearing.

Jim cast his eyes heavenward. "Lord, I don't even *want* to know what he's up to in there."

Coughing and clearing his throat, he went back to reading the sports section. Whatever Sandburg was talking about in there, Jim was sure he didn't want to know.

"Jim, man, you *have* to see this!"

Jim slowly looked up from his newspaper, one eyebrow raised skeptically. That had come through loud and clear.

"You're in the *bathroom,* Sandburg." Jim spoke slowly and with exaggerated patience. "That is the *last* thing I want to hear from *any*body when they're in the bathroom. Least of all my *male* roommate." Suppressing a shudder, Jim very deliberately returned his attention to his newspaper,
giving it a huffy little shake as if to get the words back in place.

Blair was undaunted.

"Oh, come on, Jim. I guarantee you, this is something you have *never* seen before."

Jim was feeling rather queer. He recovered his composure, growling, "I'm not coming in there unless you're bleeding to death." He made the mistake, then, of raising his coffee to his lips.

"But it's so cute!"

Just Jim's eyes were visible over the top of the coffee-splattered newspaper. He was not amused.

"Christ Jesus, Sandbug, if there is anything even *remotely* cute in that bathroom right now, I am never - EVER - going to know about it. I do not *want* to know about it. For the last time, Sandburg, I am *not* coming in there, so just give it up already!" He punctuated that last statement with a hacking cough.

Not one to give up easily, Blair turned to wheedling.

"But Jiiiimmm. . . "

Folding the paper violently and tossing it down on the coffee table, Jim pushed himself to his feet. As he crossed the few feet to the bathroom door, he pushed his sleeves up as if preparing for a fight.

"Alright, Sandburg, this is it. You've got your wish. I'm coming in. But so help me, if I see anything . . ." He paused, hiding a stutter. ". . . *unusual,* I'm going to--"

Jim threw the door open.

Jim blinked. He blinked again.

"Sandburg, what the Hell is that in your pants?"

The incredulous expression on Jim's face almost made Blair lose it.

Blair was seated unselfconsciously on the toilet, pants around his ankles. There, curled up in a nest of his jeans, was a small, sleeping cat.

Blair was red in the face now, desperately trying to contain his laughter so he didn't scare his new friend.

"It's . . . <snort> . . . Mrs. Carlysle's . . . <snicker> . . . from upstairs." He caught his breath, giggling madly. "Must have slipped in while I was bringing in the groceries."

Blair's grin was pure evil. "Told ya' it was cute, man."

Jim hadn't moved, but now he shook his head slowly. "There is so much I could say right now, Sandburg." Jim grinned. "But I will say one thing. You were right. The last thing I expected to find in your pants was a pus--"

"Jiiiiimmm!"

-end, Queer-