Title: Bob; sequel to Banky (2 of 2)
Author: Gypsy
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob, Banky's heartbreak over Holden.
Rating: NC-17
Archive: If you want it, you can have it. Just tell me where you're gonna put
it first.
E-mail :gypsy_gray@msn.com 
Series/Sequel: This is the fourth story in a series. I don't have a tile yet.
Help me think of one.
Disclaimers: They're not mine, but I really wish they were. I'm not getting any
money for this. I am however getting tingly when I think about how this is
going to end.
Notes: See the end of the first story in this series if you want to be spoiled
for the rest of the series.
Summary: Banky interferes, Bob confesses.
Warnings: Angst, UST, Spoilers (for all the movies), A complete disrespect for
canon established in the cartoons or the comics.
________________________________________________________________________________\
____

It's a hell of a lot easier to wake up when you've actually been asleep.
When you've been drifting in and out of your mind on waves of pain and
percadin, you don't wake up. You become aware. Aware of the fog in your head.
Aware of the film on your tongue and in your mouth. Aware of how dry your
throat is. Aware of how tired you really are, because you haven't been
sleeping. Aware of the pain in a hand that is fractured in three places and
swollen inside its bright orange cast. Aware of voices in the other room. Aware
that the door is open. Aware that they don't know you can hear them.

"Face it, this is your fault. He's miserable and broke his own fucking
hand...because of you." Banky's voice, angry and accusing. Like Bob was on the
fucking grassy knoll.

"Bullshit." Oh shit. Bob is pissed, seriously pissed. Banky needs to
quit, or he'll have a matching set of black eyes.

"Oh fuck you!! I know him too asshole. Hell, I probably know him better
right now then you do. He's dying...and you're killing him. Can you really do
this? Can you do to him what Holden did to me?" Still angry. Banky never would
back down when he got started, but the accusation is gone. 

"He didn't..." Guilt. Huh. Jay was sure he was the only one who could
make Bob sound like a kid caught doing something bad. Looks like Banky had the
gift too.

"Don't!! Don't tell me Holden didn't know. He knew from the beginning.
And maybe you didn't, but you do now. Do you want to see him turn into this?
Into me?" Not angry anymore. Choked sounding. Like there's something in Banky's
throat. "I'm fucked Bob. For the rest of my life, this is all there is. I'm
dead. I know that. There's nothing left to me. I see what I lost everytime I
look in the mirror. And I know how I lost it." Sobbing. Banky's crying. Oh
fuck. No no no. Banky's cried enough. "Don't do this to him. If you don't want
him...let him go."

"Why? What do you want?" Bob's still pissed, but there won't be any
trouble. He's pissed at the situation more than he is at Banky.

"Holden." The answer is immediate and definite. And Jay scrapes his
cheek with the cast before he remembers to wipe his eyes with the other hand. 

He stops listening when he can't concentrate on anything but keeping his
own crying muffled. He doesn't want to hear anymore anyway. Bob knows, and he
should be so fucking pissed at Banky. He's not. His friend is only trying to
help him. Dealing with all the shit and hurt in his own heart to spare Jay a
lifetime of carrying around the same things. And he's a bad friend. Cause he
should've done this. He should've found Holden and had this argument with him.
And maybe...maybe the asshole would be here and Banky would be OK. And Jay
wouldn't have to deal with the fact that he was a shitty friend. And Banky
would be Banky again. 

But he hadn't. He'd been afraid that Holden would see what he was hiding.
Afraid Bob would find out. So afraid. And in the end that's what it came down
to. Banky had nothing left to fear. Banky had nothing left to lose. And maybe
that was the only way it could be done. If Banky had gone to Bob before it
would have gotten back to Holden, and then what? Marian said things happen for
a reason. Kelly said you can only play the hand life deals. And Naomi...Naomi
sat beside him and laid out her cards. She combed her fingers, with their long
purple nails, through his tangled hair. And she said he would come to hate the
smell of lavender.

Sobs shook his whole body while it curled into itself. The truth is a
bitch. Especially when it hits you in the face with a damn baseball bat.
Lavender. That fucking perfume. She'd been trying to tell him. And he knew that
smell...not just from its lingering life on Bob. He knew who wore lavender
perfume. And fuck...no no no!! Bob could not be in love with her. Not that
bitch. A stripper. A fucking stripper that was one of their regular customers.
And they'd gone to watch her once out of curiosity. Skinny as death, with
clothes on she looked like a boy. Long mouse brown hair, too much mascara
making the circles under her eyes look like hollows. And that fucking stupid
ass perfume.

"FUCK!!!"

"Jay?" Damn. He hadn't meant to say that outloud. Hadn't meant to draw
Bob's attention. But there he was. Sitting on the bed, looking worried. Fuck
it. Jay was hurt and mad and wanted answers. He had nothing left to lose
either. And maybe just maybe, he could save himself from being like Banky.

"A stripper. You've been hiding me from a stripper. She sticks her tits
in guys faces for cash, but you're ashamed of me? What the fuck!?!"

"I'm not ashamed of you."

"Fuck you."

"Me."

"What the fuck are you grunting about?!"

"I'm ashamed of me." Warm hands that smelled like the cigarette Bob
must have been smoking, reaching out to touch him. Callused fingers tangling
gently in his hair as Bob tries to push the mess off his forehead an behind his
ear. "She dyed her hair."

What the fuck? It really isn't in Jay's nature to be quiet or still. But
over the years that the best way to get Bob to explain something is just to
wait for him to do it. Eventually you get the answers. 

"After she lost her job, she called and asked to make an arrangement.
She dyed her hair blonde."

Fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck...

"Oh Fuck! You fuck!! You've been dealing to her and she's been paying
you by..."

"Fucking."

Swinging on someone twice your size is never a good idea. Doing it with a
broken arm and your legs tangled in sheets in a phenomenally idiotic idea. Of
course, hindsight being twenty/twenty, it was a lot more obvious to Jay how
stupid an idea it was after he was pinned under Bob with his arms above his
head.

"Get off me!!"

"No."

"You tubby coat wearing motherfucker!! Get your rotund ass offa me!!"

"No."

He had more insults. He had mental indexes full of things designed to annoy
and aggravate Bob enough to make him move. He didn't say them. He couldn't say
anything. His mind was full of something. Two somethings. Two separate pieces
of information that were swimming through the sea of pain, meds, exhaustion,
anger, and fear. Two thoughts trying desperately to connect with each other in
order to form one vital idea. With clothes on she looked like a boy. She dyed
her hair blonde. She looked like a boy with blonde hair.

"You fucked her cause she looked like..." But what if he was wrong. He
couldn't say it. 

"You." Not wrong. He wasn't wrong. Bob wanted him. Bob wasn't in love
with her. Bob wanted him. Holy fucking shit...Bob wanted him.

Jay was ready to panic. His whole body tensed in preparation for total
mental meltdown. It was a waste of effort. Bob kissed him. Soft but sure, and
he was registering the tickle of a beard when Bob's tongue stroked inside his
mouth. Still sure, but not so soft anymore. Deep and hungry. And Bob's hands
got in the act. The boxer's he'd been put to bed in were off and the bigger man
only pulled back long enough to get the t-shirt over Jay's head before his
mouth and hands were back.

And somewhere, somehow, Jay got lost in the kisses and the touches. Because
the next thing he was sure of was the feeling of his own naked body pressed
against Bob's. Hot and heavy with muscle, the dark haired man seemed to blanket
him. But then he shifted to his knees. Jay helped get his own legs up and on
Bob's shoulders. He never took his eyes away from Bob, as fingers wet with the
lotion he used to jack off entered his body. One by one, slowly, until three of
the larger man's fingers were stroking smoothly in and out of him. 

Jay bit his lip to keep from wailing as those wonderful fingers were pulled
out of him. He heard the foil rip, He watched Bob fumble one handed with the
condom. Then it was on. And Bob was there. Slowly, creeping forward...but
FUCK...it hurt! His dick was huge. It was ripping Jay's ass apart. But then it
was in, the head had made it past. And then the rest, steady and slow. He was
in. Bob was inside of him. He was on his back, on Bob's bed, with Bob's dick up
his asshole. And Bob was moving. He was being fucked. By a man. By Bob. Bob's
cock was pumping steadily in and out of his hole. Bob was fucking him.

"YES!! Oh fuck! Please..yes...ahhh!!!"

And he was being kissed, and he was kissing back. They were having sex. And
it was fucking amazing. And Bob was huge and fantastic. And he was hitting
something inside Jay that made sparks dance in front of his eyes. And Bob just
kept fucking him. That wonderful huge dick, that belonged to his wonderful huge
Bob, just kept fucking his formerly virgin ass. Oh shit!

"You got it...you got my cherry. You busted me man."

"Oh fuck....Jay..."

"You like that, you like me tight ass."

"Shit yes!! Fuck!"

"You busted me man. Now break me in."

YEAH!! Fuck yeah!!! Shit yeah!! Bob was slamming into him. And it hurt, but
it felt so fucking good. He was Bob's. Bob was his. Yesyesyesyesyes....

"...yesyesyesyesyesYESYESYESYESYESFUCKMEYESYESYESYEESSSSSBOBBBB!!!!!!"

"SHIT....ohfuck...fuck.....fuckfuck.....JAAAAAYY!!"

Waves of fire ran up and down his spine. Bob's cock twitched and jerked
in his ass, and he knew it was filling up the rubber with Bob's cum. His own
shot on his chest and stomach and allover Bob. And that was okay, because Bob
was kissing him and Bob was whispering between the kisses.

"...love you....I love you....I love you....I love you"


The End