Title: "Midnight Clear"
Author: Kelandris the Mad (kel@crazysheep.net)
Fandom: View Askewniverse, general
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: PG-13 only for language. Such a smarm piece.
Disclaimers: All hail Kevin, the god among men. We mean no harm. We are not the droids you're looking for.
Summary: Jay and Bob, a Christmas story. It’s really that simple.
Warnings: Mild language warning. Some m/m inferences. One visible proposition. That’s about it.
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"Bob."

*shrug*

"*Bob*."

*shrug*

"Dude, what the *fuck* we doin' out here, anyway?"

*glance*

*shrug*

"*Fuck* this, tons-o-fun, it is fuckin' *December* already, do you *see* any motherfuckin' holiday shoppers?"

*glance*

*shrug*

"Dumb ass idea, come out here, stand in the fuckin' cold, freeze my *balls* off, and...and..."

The mouth slows, the words stop, as someone approaches from the darkness outside the Quik Stop. It's a male figure, head tucked into a sheepskin collar against the driving wind. He sidles up to Jay, leans over. Whispers for a minute.

Jay's eyes grow large and his hands clench into fists.

"*FUCK OFF!*" he screams, pushing the man back. He stumbles off the sidewalk, yelps, falls ass-first into a pile of snow, and quickly takes off running, Jay balling up snow now, and throwing the snowballs after him, hard and fast.

"*FUCK* you, asshole! I am *NOT* gonna go the fuck *HOME* with you and *GREASE YOUR GODDAMN NORTH POLE!*"

Temporarily out of snowy ammunition, he turns angrily to Bob. His eyes sweep the larger man, registering the thick black workboots, into which bright red wool pants are tucked, and the large black belt around the middle, holding the red wool and white fur coat warmly closed.

"An' *WHOSE* bright-ass idea was it *this* year to dress me up as a *GODDAMN ELF*?!?"

Bob looked at him, and Jay shivered, feeling the warm brown gaze move over him like a physical touch. The curling-up shoes with the little silver bells Bob had found at a Moroccan import shop; they were imbroidered in big floral curlicues in red and blue. White fishnet hose led to a long green tunic, dagged into points at the hem, which--when belted with the little silver belt--looked more like a minidress than a manly fuckin' *tunic*. Short sleeves revealed shivering arms with the hands tucked into too-thin green felt gloves, and Jay hadn't bothered wearing the little green "elf cap" that Bob had offered.

"Shit, I musta been *stoned outta my MIND* when you came up with this shitty plan," he growled, turning away. "We are fuckin' *DONE* here, dude! That is the fuckin' *THIRD* proposition tonight, and I. Have. Fuckin'. *HAD IT*!"

Bob shrugged, gathering up his trademark black trench, trudging after the blond.

"An' you better *give* me your fuckin' *coat*, or I ain't tellin' you what I learned to do for Christmas!" Jay yelled.

Bob hurried to keep up, visions of something far more wicked than sugarplums dancing in his head.

END
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Kelandris the Mad
they came upon a midnight clear