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Dancing Queen

by Kathy P.

Summary: Blair regrets the morning after the party. Jim is just plain amused.

Originally posted to The Sentinel Angst List. Special thanks to Kimberly for the wonderful beta job. All remaining mistakes are mine...all mine. <evil cackle>

"Oh, gawd," a muffled voice moaned pitifully. Sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping through various television stations for any shows with promise, Jim cocked his head toward his roommate’s room when he heard the muttered curse.

"Man, someone bring me a gun."

Turning the television set off with a grin, Jim stood up. Moving into the kitchen, he filled a glass full of water and went to stand outside of Blair’s door.

The French doors did little to silence the sounds that drifted out of the room. Rapping on the door with his knuckles, the Sentinel slowly swung the door open. "Hey, Chief. You ready to join the land of the living again?"

Moving further into the darkened room, Jim looked for any hint of his partner. The younger man was totally hidden under a mound of blankets.

"Oh, man, I feel horrible. What happened?" Blair moaned as he pulled a pillow over his head.

"What do you remember?"

The pillow shifted slightly and a bleary blue eye tried to focus on him. "A party?"

Jim smiled wickedly at his friend. "And?"

Another blue eye appeared from behind the pillow.




"Add those all together and what do you get, Chief?"


"Let’s add one more thing to the equation. Megan’s ABBA CD."

Groaning, Blair pulled the pillow over his head again.

"Stop right there, man," he begged the Sentinel.

Chuckling again, Jim reached over and pulled the pillow off the younger man’s head. "Here, Blair. Drink this," he said as he offered the hungover man the glass of water. "You need to re-hydrate yourself."

Taking the glass from the older man, Blair downed the water quickly. Handing the empty glass back to Jim, the younger man tried to extradite himself from his mountain of blankets.

With another chuckle, Jim moved to help his friend out off the bed. "There’s some Tylenol in the medicine cabinet, Chief."

"Uh huh," the disheveled younger man said as he moved toward the bathroom.

"Oh, and Blair?"

Blair stopped his trek to the bathroom for a moment. "Don’t be too surprised when the guys start calling you, the Dancing Queen tomorrow."

The younger man’s shoulders slumped as a small whimper escaped from his lips.

"I’ve always told you that you know all the moves, baby."

The End

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