Come Boxers

[amuly]

Title: Come Boxers
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison, established relationship
Word Count: 436
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Eliot learns something gross about Hardison
Warnings: grossness
A/N: Yeah, sorry. Sprang into my head, and had to write it. I have much sexier fics in the works with these two, I swear.

            “What the hell are these?”

            Hardison poked his head out of his closet to see what Eliot was talking about. Over in front of his computer, Eliot was holding a pair of boxers between thumb and forefinger, a disgusted look on his face.

            “Oh, those.” Hardison said.

            Eliot glared at him. “What do you mean ‘oh, those’? Are these boxers significant?”

            With a grimace, Hardison leaned forward carefully and plucked the boxers away from Eliot. He didn’t need Eliot doing anything…rash. “Yeah, um. These are my come boxers.”

            There was a moment of silence while Eliot digested this. “Your…”

            “My come boxers.”

            “And by ‘come’ you mean…”

            “Come, yeah.” Eliot continued to stare at Hardison, the rage that was slowly brewing inside of him evident on his face. “I masturbate in them, alright?”

            “That is sick!” Eliot jumped back, wiping his hand that had touched the boxers furiously on his jeans. “What the hell, man? What the hell? Why do you have boxers that you masturbate in? Haven’t you ever heard of a tissue?”

            Hardison held out his hands, trying to placate Eliot. Apparently holding them up while his boxers were still firmly grasped in his right hand wasn’t exactly the way to calm down Eliot, because he backed up again, disgusted. “Hey, hey, let’s just think about this reasonably for a second, okay?” Glancing at the boxers, Hardison tossed them in a corner before continuing. “First, you’ve swallowed my come. Fresh come. How is it gross to touch my boxers with dried come on it?”

            Eliot shifted slightly, glancing out the window, as if someone might overhear their conversation. “That’s different.”

            Hardison ignored him. “Second, but on the same note, I’ve had your come inside my ass. So excuse me if I’m a little bit insulted that you’re so grossed out by a few flakes of my dried come.”

            “Again, different.”

            Waving a hand, Hardison continued. “Third, I don’t use a tissue because you can only use those at the end, right before you come. But what about precome? Where’s all that going to go?”

            Eliot growled at Hardison. “On your hand. Or cock. Not on a pair of boxers you leave lying around!”

            “I wash them at least once a week!”

            “You know what,” Eliot pointed at Hardison, “I’m out of here. I’m out. Good bye.”

            With that, Eliot stormed out.

            “Eliot…” Hardison called after him.

            “Nope! I’m gone!”

            “Eliot!”

            “Bye!” The door to Hardison’s flat slammed shut after that. Hardison sighed, staring over at the boxers he had thrown in the corner. He supposed it might be time to retire the come boxers.