This is for Challenge #10 at Challenge Central. I hope you guys like it!
CHALLENGE 10: This is another use-this-line challenge. Mark and Roger both have to be in it. Can be friendship or slash. You must use the line, "Uh, Roger…why aren't you wearing any pants?" somewhere in the fic, use it anyway you want.
"Aw shit!" Roger grumbled, wiping away at the stain of red furiously. He'd been in the middle of eating a leftover burger that had been there for who-knows-how long. Tasting like mold and just plain nasty, Roger searched the fridge for some kind of sauce and had stumbled upon ketchup that hadn't passed its expiration date. So he'd piled the red goop up and the burger actually tasted somewhat decent. But now a big pile of ketchup had fallen onto his pants.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Roger groaned, dipping a rag into his cup and wiping it over the growing, scarlet stain on his upper thigh.
"OH SHIT!" Roger yelled, "YEE-OW!"
How could he have forgotten he was drinking a large, steaming cup of coffee? Roger undid his pants and rolled them down slightly so he could inspect the area for burns. Fortunately there were none, but the area the coffee had touched was pink.
Not bothering to roll his pants back over his red-heart boxers, Roger quickly finished his burger and went to inspect the fridge for something sweet. His eyes opened wide in excitement, Roger pulled a carton of chocolate ice cream out of the freezer.
"Jackpot!" he muttered, spooning some of the heavily iced-over substance onto a paper plate.
Just as he was about to sit down, a strange sensation came over Roger. Big, red letters flashed in his brain- BATHROOM NOW!
Putting the plate of ice cream onto his seat, Roger rushed to the bathroom.
Soon enough the rocker returned to the table, but not before a bug flew in his eye. "Shit," he mumbled, sitting down so he could get the thing out.
It took Roger a moment to contemplate the icy sensation shooting through his butt.
"OH SHIT!" he yelled, hopping up and wiping his bottom furiously, the cold substance rubbing off on his hands, "THE ICE CREAM!"
However, rubbing at the stuff only made it smear, so Roger's butt was now covered in the stuff. "Damn," he muttered, "The top of me is hot, the bottom is cold, but it's nice and pleasant right in the middle. Hm, I should probably change out of these."
Stripping down right in the middle of the kitchen area, Roger took off his pants and dumped them in the sink, running cold water on them.
"I hope this works," he muttered, retreating to his room for another pair of slacks.
He was halfway there when it hit him- Mark had taken all the clothes to Collins and Angel's place just that morning so Angel could wash them. They wouldn't be getting anything back until at least the end of the week. And that's how long that one pair of pants was supposed to last him…
"Shit," he grumbled, "Now I'm pantsless until Friday!"
Figuring there was no use in mourning over the loss of his only available pants, Roger flopped down on the couch and began to strum away on his guitar. He was like that when Mark came back from filming.
"Uh, Roger," Mark stuttered, trying to contain laughter, "Why aren't you wearing any pants?"
Roger's face turned red- almost as red as the ketchup that had stained his pants.