Title: Bluntman and Chronic's Best Christmas Ever Author: Kelandris the Mad (kel@crazysheep.net) RATING: Nearly G, but PG-13 for the drug mentions and the kissing Pairing: Jay/Bob Fandom: View Askewniverse, general Disclaimer: The usual--Kevin Smith is godlike in his ability to ignore the insignificant. Or maybe it’s just that we keep insisting that he’s hung like a horse. Note: Part of the View Askewniverse Holiday Challenge. Warnings: Language, of course. Jay uses bad words. Plus this is a kissing story, and not damned much else. Brief m/m interaction, mention of drugs, the usual. ========================================================================================================= "Here." Bob looked down, startled. A box wrapped in gold had just been dropped into his lap. A bow of real cloth, in brilliant red, was tied expertly around the glimmering foil paper. **What--?** Jay crash-landed next to him, and Bob noticed his hands fidgeting in his lap. They clutched each other, winding together tight, then broke apart with a jerk, rubbing palms down along Jay's lean, cut-off-clad thighs. Twenty degrees outside, and the boy was still wearing cut-offs. Bob shook his head, looking up. Jay wasn't looking at him. Not even *normally* not looking in his direction, because Jay could never keep his eyes fixed on *anything* without tits for longer than ten seconds. This must be *serious*--Jay was staring fixedly *away* from Bob. Bob let his gaze travel up. Jay's shoulders were stiff with tension. His chin jutted out. His mouth twisted. Bob cocked an eyebrow. As if Jay had felt it go up, he swallowed and said, "Lady at the package store wrapped it. I thought it would be...y'know..." He swallowed again, rolling his head around, cracking his neck, lifting his shoulders. "Just open it, okay? Just--" Bob was getting worried now. Jay wasn't this tense about *anything* but hospitals and cops. Even then, he traded insults for fearful looks on a one-to-one basis. Bob splayed a large hand on the top of the box, thinking. He heard Jay inhale to speak again, and tore one corner of the foil. The small tearing noise sounded *huge* in the apartment. Obviously, this was an open-this-*now* kind of thing, not a wait-five-more-days present, but...He thought he'd better speed it up; Jay had stopped breathing. His hands made short work of the efficient wrapping and ribboning, and when all the foil had been crumpled up and tossed away--good, heavy paper, crinkled like tin foil, the good, expensive wrapping--he was left with a box. A box that had a cartoon image of his own rotund self on it, in that *damnable* Bluntman suit. And standing next to his little cartoon figure--the long, elongated image of Chronic; the little arms crossed and a significant sneer permanently affixed to the plastic. "G'wan," Jay urged from beside him. He was breathing in great rushing inhales now. Bob was afraid to look over for fear something *else* weird would happen. He opened the box. Inside, wrapped in separate little bubble-wrap casings, were the plastic figures advertised on the outside of the box. For the life of him, he could not *imagine* why Jay had gotten him these two figures. Two *years* after the movie had come out, trashing what was left of the fan base. Two *years* after they'd had their bizarre moment of surreality themselves, going to Hollywood, getting on the *Stab!* set, getting on the set of their *own* spandex-clad film...He popped bubbles at random, searching for the tape to open the cocoons, and finally unwound the clear cellophane strip from around both little figures. He lifted them up. Bluntman. Chronic. What in the world...? He couldn't figure it out. All that confusion raced around inside him and finally made sound as he turned towards Jay. "Why...?" he asked softly. Jay grabbed the figures out of his hands, staring down at them, staring at them like he wanted to crumple *them* into small foil balls and toss them to the floor with the paper. He mumbled something behind the curtain of blond that was covering his face. "What?" Bob asked, still softly. Jay snarled. "I saw this kid, okay?" Bob blinked. Okay. "In the mall. I saw this kid. The collectibles place, you know, the one with all the fuckin' Beanie Babies and shit...they had six of these, tucked into a corner. I wouldn'ta even noticed but this kid had 'em in her hands and she was...she was..." Plastic squeaked in his tense grip. His hands were shaking. He brought them up to eye level, and turned them so that the figures faced each other. He leaned them together, until Bluntman's calm sarcastic look met Chronic's eternal sneer. "She did...*that*," Jay said, whispering now. "An' I, um, I, um...I wondered..." He inhaled again, touching the faces of the figures together, over and over. "It don't look like so bad," he said, almost as an undertone. Then he grimaced again, his entire face contorting, and tossed the figures back at Bob, who caught them deftly with one hand. He heard Jay swallow again, then felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face the blond. "I wondered why we weren't doin' the same damn thing," he said. He didn't look happy about it, though. And Bob thought about it. Give the boy credit, if this wasn't some colossal *prank*--and he wouldn't *dream* Jay had it in him to pull off such a thing--then it had to be an idea that had been rattling around in his head for more than just today. Today brought it into sharp *focus*, but it had been back there. All the times Jay had called him a fag--*after* humping his leg...All the times Jay had offered himself, then snatched his rep back with a sneer to *Bob's* masculinity...All the times... **Yeah**, Bob suddenly thought. *All* the times. *All* the *time*. And trust Jay to cock up what was, essentially, such a simple issue. "Merry Christmas," Bob said softly, and placed his hands on either side of Jay's face. He pulled him in, watching Jay's slightly panicked eyes, right up until it was close 'em, or get *real* fuckin' dizzy. He closed his eyes. He kissed the boy. Brief touch of lips to lips, and then Jay moaned and opened his mouth, his hands clasping around, tightening on Bob's arms. Jay tasted like peppermint and pot. Weird combination. Not bad, though. Bob pulled back, blinking. Cocking his head to the side again. Jay looked positively *stunned*. He licked his lips, shivering again, and then looked up, attitude slowly flowing back into his brilliant blue eyes. "Don't think this means you don't hafta buy me somethin' for Christmas," Jay warned. Some of the sting of the harsh tone faded, though, when Jay immediately scrambled into his lap, ducking his head. With a wry grin, Jay grabbed the action figures in Bob's lap, and threw them to the far end of the couch. They landed in a splay-limbed pile, Chronic on top of Bluntman, one of Bluntman's arms thrusting up into the air. "Yeah," said Jay, looking over. He was smiling when he looked back. "That'll be later." Yeah. *Hells*, yeah. Later sounded just *fine*. END ***************** Kelandris the Mad hark the herald angels