Title: Can't Afford to Pay the Rent
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: Songfic. At this rate you'd be shocked if it were anything 
else.
Status: New
Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note...
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: Sequels "Out of the Rain"
Disclaimers: All parts of my fannish being are enriched by the 
presence of Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, Jason Lee, Ben Affleck, and all 
the merry characters at View Askew Productions (including their 
current master, Miramax,) save for that pesky financial part of my 
being, which receives no compensation whatsoever for these tawdry 
little tales.
Notes: Hadn't thought about the sequel thing for "OotR", but then I 
grabbed Epic at random and ooh, there are a lot of good, crunchy, 
true-love-lost songs there. Plus, of course, the option to limp 
around in vaguely dance-like patterns to "Epic" played at high 
volume. (Hey. It's not easy to dance with a cane in one hand.)
Summary: Jay tries to figure out what Bob wants in a roommate.
Warnings: 

"Can't Afford to Pay the Rent"
by Kelandris

*tossed into my mind, stirring the calm
you splash me with beauty and pull me down
`cause you come from out of nowhere
oh, my glance turns to a stare*

After the awards were over, after the museum closed, after the 
requisite cheering and wailing and herding of excited small humans 
into the van back to the hotel, the man called Bob walked a new 
acquaintance back to the hotel. Jay couldn't keep a smirk off his 
face as he sashayed his way through the elevator doors, and, hardly 
waiting for them to close, pounced on Bob again.

Bob pushed him away. "Wait," he said tersely.

"Yeah, whatever. You're payin'," the blond said dismissively. He 
wrapped the thin cotton trench tighter around him, looking at the 
smoked mirrors set into the walls of the elevator.

It pinged the number for every floor they were on, so when they 
reached floor nine, Jay had counted forty-five pings. The doors slid 
open with a silent swoosh, and Bob walked out, fishing the key-strip 
out of his clothes. A click and a swing and they were in the room.

It wasn't posh, but it was so far from the dives Jay was used to, it 
might have been the penthouse suite. Two big beds, made up in simple 
striped linens, each bed folded down and--check that--a motherfuckin' 
mint on the pillow. Shit, he thought that was just in movies. Twin 
bedside lamps, and on the other side of the room, a writing desk and 
chair, a chest of drawers supporting a television and a few scattered 
papers.

"You're welcome to call room service, just have them bill it to the 
room," Bob said tiredly. "I'm going to take a shower."

Jay's eyebrows went up. He walked over to where Bob stood, rubbing 
the back of his neck. He leaned forward, blowing across the slightly 
reddened skin, and watched Bob shudder again.

**Shit, I never get tired of that.**

Aloud, he whispered to Bob. "You want someone to scrub your back?"

"Uhh..." Then Bob shook his head. "That's not why I brought you back 
here."

Jay looked at him, arms folded.

"Okay, then I don't get this. I mean, `Pretty Woman' and all that 
shit, y'know, I *am* the fuckin' sure thing." He stepped close to 
Bob, running a hand up his shirt, sliding agile fingers in between 
the buttons. He felt springy, soft chest hair and the softest skin 
this side of a chick, and shivered. What was the rest of him gonna 
be like?

"I can make you happy," he said, kissing the line of his jaw. Bob 
stiffened, but didn't push him away. "I know I can. I know you want 
me to." He licked his way to Bob's earlobe, sucking on it, feeling 
him shudder at the touch.

"Why won't you let me?" he breathed into Bob's ear.

At that, Bob pushed him away and shook his head. "Not my scene, 
Jay," he said hoarsely, and stepped into the bathroom. He closed the 
door and Jay heard the click of the lock.

*obsession rules me--I'm yours from the start
I know you see me--our eyes interlock
`cause you come from out of nowhere
oh, my glance turns to a stare*

He sat down on one of the beds, fuming. What the fuck was Bob's 
problem? He was *good* at what he did, he fuckin' knew it--hells, 
he'd had practically a lifetime to practice. He knew his shit, he 
knew what to do when, he knew the ins and outs of *all* the ins and 
outs. Hells, other whores sent their johns his way if they wanted 
certain specific things. He had a certain rep, after all.

And now this idiot, with his `no, I can't, I knew you when you were a 
little shit' line. Hells, that's why some of his clients *paid* 
him, `cos he could pretend to be young an' innocent. They could 
conquer on new ground, whimpering at their feet. Shit, some guys ate 
that up like steak.

He laid down, flicking the tv on, scanning through the menu. Boring 
movies. Boring shows. Boring movies for sale. Hey. Porn.

His eyebrows went up, and he rocketed through a pitiful selection of 
five-year-old movies, finally selecting the best of the lot and 
pressing the order button. A red box appeared on the screen.

*BY SPECIAL ORDER ALL ADULT FILMS ARE LOCKED OUT. THANK YOU*, it 
said.

Motherfuck! He couldn't even get *porn* at this crappy hotel? His 
mind turned angrily back to Bob, hearing the shower in the 
background, and his imagination suddenly took over, presenting him 
with a vivid image of Bob in the shower.

*He stood there under the spray, eyes closed, letting the water sleek 
down his dark brown hair, run in rivulets through the dark, springy 
hairs on his chest. The water ran down in streams over his powerful 
shoulders, down the muscles on his back, down over his belly, to his 
slowly stiffening cock. It would be large, he thought, large to 
match his power, and seeing it made it real, made it raise its head 
like a hammer, Bob sliding his hands down to grab it, gasping.*

Jay dropped the remote, cupping his crotch and closing his eyes. 
Fuck, yeah. Was it too much to hope for that maybe, just a little, 
Bob was thinking about him at the same time? Yeah. Dig on that. 
Dig on Bob thinkin' of him.

*Bob's big hands, slick with water, slid up and down his pole, first 
slow, then faster, then faster still. He saw the flash of blond hair 
in his mind, the slice of pale skin Jay had left strategically 
revealed, the angle of the jutting hip. He thought about Jay's mouth 
where his hands were, Jay on his knees, fucking those sweet, wet 
lips.*

Hey, Jay thought, unzipping and pulling his own cock free, stroking 
it with the light, rapid touches of long practice. He squeezed the 
head, rotating the grip of his hands, and arched off the bed, 
gasping. *His* fantasy, right? Right.

*Bob knelt in the shower before Jay, who slowly guided his head to 
the long cock waving through the spray. Bob's mouth kissed along the 
length, then engulfed him, the dark head bobbing at his hips, Jay 
looking down, watching it. Watching Bob swallow him. Watching Bob's 
hands rise to grab his hips, bring his cock deeper into Bob's willing 
mouth. Bob's lips... Bob's mouth... Bob's tongue...*

"Ahhh!" he cried out, pressing his fingers together right behind the 
head of his penis, his other hand gripping the base hard. No. He 
didn't want to come yet. He wanted to come later, with Bob. But he 
was so hard, and he was twitching so, and breathing hard. The only 
thing that made his hands stop moving, the hell with coming anywhere 
else, was the sound of the shower shutting off.

*Shit!* Quickly, he stuffed the slowly softening erection into his 
pants, zipping up, and dug around on the floor for the remote. 
Where'd the damned thing--ah, there it was. He picked it up, draping 
himself into the picture of nonchalance, and went back to flicking 
normal channels.

*one minute here and one minute there
don't know if I'll laugh or cry
one minute here and one minute there
and then you wave good-bye*

Bob came out, wrapped in a fluffy white robe. He was briskly towel-
drying his hair. His clothes he carried to the closet, placing them 
in a large canvas bag marked LAUNDRY.

He looked over at Jay. "You should get out of those clothes," he 
said softly.

"Now, that's what *I'm* talkin' about, you gonna get some--"

"No, they'll just wash your clothes and bring them back clean. I 
think I have a spare t-shirt, too, if you don't want to wear the 
cropped one."

Jay just blinked at him.

"And the shower's free. Have you ordered anything to eat yet?"

Jay shook his head.

"You mind if I do?"

Jay shook his head.

"Okay, go take a shower and I'll order something for both of us."

Dazed, Jay walked over to the shower--this was so not going the way 
he'd seen it in his head--then he looked over his shoulder, grinning 
darkly. He stripped in the hallway, not meeting Bob's eyes, but he 
knew when the brunet inhaled sharply that he'd noticed. He listened 
very carefully to the pace of his breathing, and did as much as he 
could to stretch it out without seeming obvious. First, shoes kicked 
off, kicked over next to the closet. Then socks, pulled off from 
each toe, and pants shucked down, placed in the LAUNDRY bag. Next 
the t-shirt, pulled over his head from the hem up, his body flexing 
as he pulled it free. Finally, his briefs, pulled down and kicked 
up, where Jay caught them, looking up and staring at Bob for the 
first time.

Bob was staring at him, open-mouthed.

"You sure you don't want to scrub *my* back?" he asked, cocking his 
head. His unbound blond hair draped over one shoulder, falling to 
conceal one of his nipples. Static briefly hummed in the air.

"Shower," Bob gasped.

Jay shrugged, tossing the last of his clothes in the bag, and turned 
to the bathroom door.

"Hope there's another robe," he said, and nearly laughed aloud at the 
stricken look on Bob's face.

*sifting to the bottom, every day for two
all energy funnels, all becomes you
`cause you come from out of nowhere
oh, my glance turns to a stare*

He'd been in the shower for a while, scrubbing his wrists and ankles 
nearly raw to get the grime off, washing his hair over and over, when 
there was a quiet tap on the door. He rinsed the last remaining soap 
suds free, stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel to squeegee 
his hair carefully. He opened the door.

Bob's mouth dropped open, and he looked away quickly, holding out 
another fluffy white robe. Jay shook his head, climbing into the 
soft fluffy terry, wrapping the front and tying it closed. He tapped 
Bob on the shoulder.

"Bitch, why you do that? I know you want me. Why can't you just be 
honest about it?" He gestured at the hotel room, empty of anyone but 
them. "Who'm I gonna tell?"

"It's not--" Bob began, and Jay cut him off, a finger to his lips.

"Fuck that. You *want* me. An' that's okay, `cause I want you 
too." He stepped forward then, kissing Bob passionately, and after a 
moment of startled tension, Bob kissed back. Oh, yeah, and here was 
what he loved about this guy, so different from the other fucks--he 
kissed like it was the best thing in the world to be kissed by 
someone else. Other guys, they just dove for him, slashing their 
lips and tongue across Jay's mouth, forcing their kisses on him. Not 
Bob. Bob kissed like the world was just them, just their lips and 
their tongues and their bodies, alone in the universe. Fuckin' 
beautiful.

Then Bob pulled away. "There's food," he gasped, and moved over to 
the writing desk. Jay saw hamburgers and fries and drinks and a 
platter of deep-fried things, he didn't know what they were, and he 
didn't care. There were four or five sauces for various things, and 
his stomach rumbled painfully as he walked to the table. There were 
even two slices of pie, off to the side. He looked up, dazed again.

"Why you doin' all this again? I can't even offer a *little* 
somethin' in trade?"

Bob stared at him for a moment, sitting down. Jay noticed that he 
had a little problem arranging his legs, and felt a flush rove warmly 
over his skin again. Oh, yeah. Hard for me, baby, now, if I can 
just get you an' me in one fuckin' *bed*... His hands slipped up his 
thighs to his crotch, and Bob's eyes followed, then pulled away, 
stuck themselves to Jay's face.

"Come back with me," he finally said.

"Come back where?" Jay asked.

"Back home. Get out of New York. Get off the streets here."

Jay shook his head, leaning back. "Job's no different anywhere else, 
man, streets are the same anywhere."

"Get off the game."

Jay sat forward, holding a fry. "You're serious about this."

Bob nodded.

Jay threw the fry back on the plate. "Oh, I get this now. Niiice 
setup, you fuck. Have me come back to the nice little church on the 
fuckin' prairie, speak to the unforgiven about my tragic time on the 
street, oh, the fuckin' horror. Then you hand me over to some 
balding priest in a back room and go out, find some other boy-toy to 
bring back."

Bob stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Jay narrowed his eyes.

"What the fuck is it, then?"

"I want you to be happy, okay? I just want you to have a good life, 
stay sane, be fuckin' *happy* for once!"

Jay leaned forward, smiling. "Happy, yeah, happy I can do," he 
whispered, running his fingers up Bob's thigh. Bob slapped his hand 
away.

"Happy in a way that does *not* involve you offering sex to me every 
three minutes!"

"What the fuck else do I know how to do?"

"You'll learn something, then, won't you?"

Screaming at each other, breathing hard, they sat on either side of 
the writing desk, food untouched for a moment between them.

**He just doesn't understand,** they thought simultaneously. Then, 
as if by mutual accord, they ate dinner, both men looking down at 
their plates. When they were finished, Bob picked up the dishes, 
piling them all back on the big black tray, and brought it out to the 
door. He came back, climbing into bed. Without another word, he 
shut off the light.

**Oh, yeah, like I'm supposed to just pass out now. Bitch, it's not 
even two in the fucking morning.**

But surprisingly, he was out when his head hit the pillow.

*one minute here and one minute there
don't know if I'll laugh or cry
one minute here and one minute there
and it hurts inside*

The next morning, he helped Bob pack his shit, and borrowed a black t-
shirt from him. It fell to his knees. He left the hotel, feeling as 
if the ground were tipping underneath him. 

"Where we goin' now?" he asked, once everyone had arrived at the 
Greyhound station. He and Bob made their way to the bus behind the 
rest of the kids. 

Bob watched to make sure all his charges were aboard before he turned 
his attention back to Jay.

"Leonardo," he said softly, and Jay felt a chill rush up his spine.

**He's not fuckin' kiddin'. He *is* gonna take me home.**

He watched Bob mount the stairs to the bus, thinking strongly of just 
running, now, running back to the safety of the dive he lived in, the 
disposable existence he led. Then he met Bob's calm, dark eyes, and 
he knew he couldn't leave.

**Holy fuck. Now what?** And once on the bus, he began to shiver, 
as New York faded into roadway behind them.

*one minute here and one minute there
and then you wave goodbye*

END
(Song is "From Out of Nowhere" by Faith No More; words taken from the 
song, not the printed lyrics in the album)
*****
Kelandris the Mad
the sushi is fresh today? what? I wanted a newspaper