Title: Argument
Title: Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, general
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: PG-13 for language, some kissing.
Status: New
Archive: wherever you want, full permission, just lemme know about 
it. No, I don't believe grabbing it from the list requires a note. :>
E-mail address for feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequel: Nope, another one-shot.
Disclaimers: All characters belong to Kevin Smith and the View 
Askewniverse. If I really get into this, I probably will too. Or at 
least go into hock when I walk into a video store, go into rut, and 
buy all the DVDs at once.
Notes: Ah, Barenaked Ladies songs just beg to be turned into slash. 
I could do ten stories off this one, easy.
Summary: Jay tries to figure out why Bob's mad at him.
Warnings: Language, angst, kissing. Some het sexual situations.

"Argument"
by Kelandris


"I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of taking off my shirt"

Jay and Silent Bob were arguing. It didn't happen often, but when it 
did, it fuckin' hurt worse than anything else he'd done. Worse than 
that time when he was high on some stupid shit, and he went down the 
alley with the man had that knife�He still had a couple scars on his 
back from that idiot. Huh. Hadn't thought about that one in years�
But, fuck, at least with him when the pain started, he'd been able to 
kick out and run off, *with* the fuck's wallet, and live well for a 
week or two while he healed.

Then of course, it was out on the streets again. Street snitch, 
street thief, anything-for-a-twenty-Jay. Man. Even that wasn't as 
bad as arguing with Bob. `Cause, fuck, he could handle being 
screamed at. He could handle people throwing things. Shit, that was 
home, that was all his family did, that and whale on him, his dad, 
his stepdad, his other fuckin' stepdads�Shit. He could take that.

What he couldn't fucking take was the staring. And Bob being 
disappointed in him. And the fucker never saying a word about it. 
The most he'd gotten out of him so far was a strangled "Jay--" before 
the shit walked off to his room. Yeah, and how about that, *his* 
room, suddenly, when before, it had been theirs. Couldn't even tell 
him why.

And he'd asked, man, he'd asked. Bob'd just shake his head, lighting 
up a smoke or starting up a film or going into his room, closing the 
door--*closing the door*! Fuck, like he didn't know when his sweet 
Muscle needed a break, whether they were arguing or not. Like he 
couldn't see those wheels turning in the forebrain, knowing 
practically what was going on behind Bob's eyes. Ever since the 
night of Taia's party�

Jay stopped still, frozen in the act of rolling up a joint. 
**Fuck..** That was it, Taia and her cute little friend. He shook 
his head. Like that kinda shit meant anything, though--he'd been 
talking, drinkin' a beer, and Tai had drifted over, all glammed to 
the max--hair electric red, lips blue, skin paler than Jay's belly. 
She'd introduced the chickie, but fuck if Jay could remember what her 
name was�two beers and a joint in him at that point, and someone was 
talking down the hall about having some X, and he'd asked if they'd 
wanted to come along, and off they went.

Some shit in the back room handed him another joint, and he and the 
chickie smoked it down while Tai fed the shit some X, then fed Jay 
some, then fed the chickie, their lips meeting in a scorching kiss. 
Jay leaned back on the floor, hooking a hand in his waistband and 
watching. Hey, might as well file it away for future reference, 
right? And they were hella cute.

Tai's friend had green hair; not just green, but kind of an 
underwater teal, highlights of shimmering blue and emerald mixing. 
Her eyelids also shimmered, coated in some green sparkly shit. And 
her lips�looking at her lips was like looking at a star, silvery and 
reflective. He never knew if it was the X or if it was just her 
makeup, but she shone in the semi-dark, smiling his way.

"You're kinda cute," she said softly. One of her hands was on his 
chest, the nails painted and filed to sharp green points. He caught 
Tai behind her, lifting her skirt and pulling her panties off with 
her teeth. The girl just sucked in air, giggling. Man, this shit 
was getting good.

Then she leaned forward, running her hand down to his jeans, and 
undoing them, and he just watched, his eyes half-lidded, as her head 
descended to lick along his cock. It woke right up, man, nearly 
poked her in the eye, and she laughed, gasping. He could only see 
Tai's hair at this point behind the girl, like a wild red fringe on 
the bottom of her PVC skirt. He leaned against the wall, staring at 
the patterns in the ceiling stucco. He could feel his eyes blinking, 
and feel those star-bright lips on his cock, just licking, kissing, 
sucking on the very tip. She slid her hands underneath his t-shirt, 
moving them up and down along his ribs, along his sides.

Then her hands hooked into claws, and she dragged them through his 
skin down to his hips. He bucked, throwing her off, and rose to his 
feet, weaving a bit. 

"Bitch!" he cried out. "What the fuck'd you do to me?" The shit and 
the chickie stood, the chickie licking blood off her fingers�**My 
blood,** he thought, grimacing, **fuck that�** And he backed up, 
figuring, if this was gonna get rough, then fuck it, he could do 
rough, he could do any fucking thing, and boy wouldn't that bitch be 
surprised�

And then Bob was there. Just standing there, in the doorway. He 
looked large and dark and grim as the spectre of death, and he slowly 
took the cigarette from his mouth, tapping the ash deliberately on 
the carpet. He looked at each of them in turn, then his eyes flicked 
to Jay's. He gave a little head shake--**move it, we're leaving**--
and Jay sidled out of the room, sneering at the girl, walking close 
enough to kiss her as he moved towards the door.

"You are so fuckin' lucky my Muscle here doesn't trash you, bitch. 
Don't pull that shit again." And they left the party, Jay snagging a 
couple beers on the way out, figuring he was owed. Bob said nothing.

When they got home, Bob silently fetched some alcohol, some 
antibiotic ointment, and some gauze and band-aids, and made him sit 
on the couch. He carefully took off Jay's shirt and looked at the 
damage. He dipped some gauze in alcohol, slowly stroking it over 
Jay's skin while he yelped.

"Fuck man, that shit burns!" he said, squirming. Bob looked up, 
pinning him in place with a glance. He continued until the blood was 
gone, rubbed in ointment here and there, taped up the worst of it. 
Then he rose, carrying the first-aid gear back to the bathroom, 
silently putting it away. Silent, even for him. What the fuck?

Coming down from X, sometimes he forgot cause and effect. Now, he 
thought that Bob was just being shitty `cause he'd gotten hurt, but 
later, in the living room holding up the half-rolled joint, he 
thought back, and saw that Bob had seen him in the back room, being 
licked by the claw bitch, and hadn't liked it. Hadn't liked it at 
all. Shit, man, some bitch, some stoned encounter, what was the big 
prob? Not like she meant anything to him�Bob, on the other hand. 
Bob meant everything. And how the fuck was he going to say that if 
the bitch wouldn't say dick to him??

He stood, walking to the door. He thought for a long minute, hand 
raised to knock. Finally he swore, and pushed the door open. Bob 
was laying on the bed, reading a comic book of all fucking things. 
He tried not to yell.

"Listen," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm stupid." He brushed a hand back 
through his hair, leaned back against the door frame.

Bob looked up, his eyes dark. He pursed his lips, shaking his head 
slightly. Jay licked his lips.

"I said I'm stupid, what more do you want?" Jesus, if Bob was gonna 
claw his soul open over this, frankly, he might as well go back to 
Taia's friend; at least there it would only be physical damage!

Bob stood, dropping the comic. He walked over to where Jay stood, 
looking at him. Finally he put one hand around the blond's neck, 
pulling him close.

"Don't do it again," he said, and kissed him. It started off soft, 
and somehow flared into deep, tongues thrusting in mouths, Jay 
moaning Bob's name into that sweet mouth over and over.

It's been one week since you looked at me
Threw your arms in the air
and said "You're crazy"
Five days since you tackled me
I've still got the rug burns on both my knees

**Fuck yeah,** Jay thought happily. **Whatever you say, Lunchbox.** 
So he'd be a little more careful--fuck, this was true love after 
all. Like he ever wanted anyone but Silent Bob, anyway�

END
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