Word Count:
633
Rating:
PG.
Category: Humour.
Story Status:
Complete
Summary: Blair's
drunk, silliness ensues.
Beta:
Thank you to Jayne Perry for the beta-reading.
Intoxicated
By Leesa Perrie
Friday night:
Jim entered the bar looking for one anthropologist room mate who was
celebrating the end of semester with some TA friends.
“Hey, Jim, Jim, Jimmy, Jimbo, Jimo, Jim, Jim, Jimmy
Jim,”
came an inebriated cry from a table in the back corner of the bar.
Jim raised his eyebrows in amusement at the sight of one very sozzled
Sandburg.
“Hey, Chief,” he greeted him, as he approached the
table.
“Hey there, Jimmy Jim, Jim Jimmy. I love you man,
really,”
Blair said drunkenly. “You’re my bestest best
bestest ever
friend, you are.”
“That’s nice,” Jim smiled.
Looking around the
bar, he saw Blair’s friends on the dance floor.
“Hey, why
don’t we go home, Chief?”
Blair giggled. “Only if you’ll respect me in
th…the morning!”
Jim rolled his eyes.
“Let’s go home. You sleep in your bed,
I’ll sleep in my
bed, and I promise to respect you in the morning, okay?” But
not
necessarily in the afternoon, Jim thought. Too much ammo to let this go
without some good old fashioned ribbing!
“Cool man,” Blair replied. Jim helped
Blair to get
up, wrapping an arm around Blair’s waist as he started to
tilt.
“Whoa, head rush. Cool,” Blair giggled.
“The whole
world is revolving around and around and around me!
Psycho….psycho…del…del…del…ic
man!”
“Come on Chief,” Jim led Blair towards the exit.
“Bye, bye, bye, bye, bye…”
Blair seemed determined to say an individual goodbye to every person
they met as they left the bar.
They started to make their way to the truck, but Sandburg’s
legs
didn’t seem to want to move in anything even approaching a
straight line.
“Hey, slow down, Jimmy boy,” Blair muttered.
“I’m not going that fast,” Jim retorted.
“Maybe
you should just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other
and leave the rest to me?”
“Okay,” slurred Blair. “One foot, two
foot, three
foot, four foot, five foot,” he started to count.
“Hey,
I’ve got five feet Jim!”
Jim merely rolled his eyes again, and was grateful when they finally
reached the truck and he was able to head home – even if it
was
to the sounds of Blair singing various folk tunes from around the
world, in an out of tune and slurred voice.
Saturday morning:
A groan arose from Blair’s bedroom around about 11am the next
morning, followed by several more groans, a few curses and a somewhat
shaky trip to the bathroom.
Jim smiled and got out the aspirin, a glass of water and put a slice of
bread into the toaster.
Blair emerged a few minutes later and shuffled over to the couch.
“Just shoot me now, please,” he moaned.
“No can do,” Jim said, passing Blair the aspirin
and the glass of water.
“Thanks Jim,” Blair murmured, taking the aspirin
and draining the glass.
Jim went back to the kitchen and spread a thin layer of margarine onto
the slice of toast, bringing it over to Blair when he finished.
“I don’t think I can eat right now, Jim,”
Blair grumbled.
“You need to try and eat something.”
Blair sighed and started on the toast, eating slowly and
unenthusiastically. Jim took the empty glass, refilled it and
returned it to Blair.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Just let me die in peace,” moaned Blair.
Jim just chuckled and patted Blair on the shoulder.
“I don’t think it’s that bad
yet,” he said.
“Yes it is,” Blair disagreed, lying down on the
couch, with
an arm over his eyes. Jim just smiled and shook his head,
wondering whether today would be a good day to give the pots and pans
cupboard a really good clean out? Nah, that would be just too
cruel. Instead, he spent it doing mainly quiet cleaning jobs
and,
of course, anthropologist teasing.
The End
