Title: Crazy Baby Author: HMC Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob Rating: R Disclaimer: The song lyrics belong to Joan Osborne and whoever wrote it. Jay and Silent Bob belong to Kevin Smith, the wild sex machine. Notes: SONGFIC. This is such a great song. Of course my one-track mind thought immediately of Jay when I listened to it. In this fic, we're assuming that Jay and Bob are a couple already. This version of Jay's past has been used so many times.... I am the most unoriginal bugger alive. But it works. Summary: First kiss.... dreams.... sleeping.... yep. ------------------------------------------------------------------- And your hands are really shaking something awful As you light your 27th cigarette Oh how long have you been sitting in the darkness You forget "I'm sorry you were alone." Bob's voice was soft. Softer than it had ever been. There had always been a certain quality in his voice that Jay had always loved. That confident, deep, baritone, chest voice. Strong, but not intimidating.... at least not to Jay. It made him feel safe. Warm, almost. He didn't have that feeling with anyone or anything else. No one could protect him like Bob could. Bob was a big guy; steel muscle hid under that trench coat and round frame, and could protect him from any punk on the street. But it wasn't just the protection from all things physically threatening. No. Bob shared an emotional bond with his younger, smaller friend. Bob fended off the demons. Bad memories, nightmares.... monsters in the closet, whatever. None of it scared Jay. Not anymore at least. Jay sat with his knees pulled up against his chest, chin on his knees. His hat was hurting his head, so he pulled it off and restlessly tossed it across the room. He then shucked off his coat. It was too fucking hot. Was he sweating? The coarse material on their old beat-up couch was hurting his skin. There were a million things making him uncomfortable; the single tiny beam of sunlight from a wavering sunset that hit his cheek from the window, his itchy eyes, the feeling of his greasy hair at his temples, his shaking hands. Fuck, he could hardly hold onto his cigarette. A glance at trembling, ebony painted fingernails told him that his nerves were damn near shredded. He figured he'd smoked two packs already and it was only four o'clock. He hazarded a glance over at Bob, but quickly looked away again, when he saw the look of concern and sadness. Bob didn't know until last night. He'd figured that Jay would never keep a secret this big from him. Plus, they lived together and spent every waking moment in each other's presence, what could there possibly be that he didn't know about? Jesus, how long had this been going on before they met? He wanted to ask, but one look at his friend told him that any more questions would just make him more upset than he was at the moment. The only thing that mattered now was repairing damage done. And your hands are really shaking something awful As your worries crawl around inside your clothes Ooh how long will you be sitting in the darkness Heaven knows He scooted closer to Jay and wrapped an arm around the blonde's shoulders. Jay naturally gravitated towards his friend. Leaning his head against Bob's shoulder, Jay let out a great sigh, hiding his eyes in Bob's neck. "I just wanted you to know.... Someone had to know...." He murmured. Bob rubbed his friend's back in long soothing strokes. Occasionally, he ran his fingers through the tips of the blond hair that fell to the middle of Jay's back. "It's okay, everything will be okay...." Bob rested his cheek against the top of Jay's head, a task made easier by the fact that Jay was hunched over; normally he wouldn't be able to do that, thanks to the six inches that separated them. He let his head just rest there, breathing in the scent of shampoo, weed and something that just smelled.... Jay-like. "Everything's gonna be okay." He snaked an arm around Jay's waist, pulling him into a hug and out of that fetal position he was stuck in. Jay uncurled and wrapped his arms around Bob's shoulders. Fuck, he could already feel the tears coming. He felt like such a pussy. He never cried. Ever. Early in childhood, it had been ingrained into him that crying meant more pain. Crying meant weakness. He was afraid to cry, but he just couldn't help it. "It hurt. It hurt so much." Bob grimaced. He considered crying, he was tempted to just let the tears fall, but he so desperately wanted to be strong for Jay. In a fluid motion, he scooped Jay's legs onto his and cradled him as if he was a child. He reached back and pulled the cigarette from Jay's fingers and snuffed it on the coffee table. Oh you know you're getting really hard to be with And you're crying every time you turn around And you wonder why you cannot pick your head up Off the ground Jay tightened his hold around Bob's shoulders, sighing again and unconsciously opening the floodgates. Tears had begun silently rolling down his face and into the material of Bob's trench. His head felt heavy, it lay like dead weight against the broad shoulder under him. The tremendous pain in his chest had spread to his limbs. "Can you just talk for a while?" Jay asked in a small voice. "That poem you know. I like that one." Bob couldn't help but let a ghost of a smile creep onto his face. He liked the shy, tender, and quiet Jay. He did not like the circumstances that came with it. The poem was in Russian. Bob had recited it once a while ago, but it was met with such a biting comment from Jay that he never spoke it again. He couldn't remember what the comment was. But Jay had made it abundantly clear that if it wasn't in English, it wasn't worth hearing. But if he wanted to hear it now, Bob couldn't refuse. He let the words roll off his tongue with a fluidity that suggested he'd been speaking Russian his entire life. In reality, he didn't even know what half the poem meant. He'd looked it up once, but he couldn't really remember the literal translation. Jay listened with a quiet fascination to the voice that had always brought him so much comfort. And as Bob's deep, gentle voice rumbled on, Jay's eyelids drifted shut. The dual beat of Bob's words in his ears and Bob's heartbeat against his chest lulled him to sleep. Oh my crazy baby Try to hold on tight Oh my crazy baby Don't put out the light, the light, The light, the light Once Bob realized that his friend had fallen asleep, he let the tears fall. Not really sobbing, his body didn't shake, his arms didn't tremble, and he was perfectly still. But the tears were still there. Somehow, it was futile to keep them away. God. God, he loved Jay so much. That pure, unadulterated love that he felt every single day grabbed him by the heart, taking his breath away, making him aware of his unwillingness to live if Jay wasn't happy. Sometimes it was hard to think, hard to breath, hard to blink.... every involuntary motor function came secondary to that love. He couldn't describe the pain he felt at thinking about what Jay had been through. But he knew his pain couldn't be anything compared to actually experiencing it. Jay's father. His own fuckin' father. Fuckin' greasy, cocaine snorting, pimp, fuckin' asshole, dirty, grubby bastard, son of a bitch, evil fuckin'.... Shit. Words just didn't describe him. Not like he'd ever been good with words anyway. Jay hadn't been sleeping lately. Horrible, screaming-in-his-sleep nightmares had been plaguing him. It happened at least five times a week; Jay would wake up sobbing, and creep into Bob's room, looking for refuge. And Bob always invited him in with open arms, letting the blonde curl up and cry in his arms as much as he needed. Jay always carried on the next day as if it hadn't happened, more than once insisting that Bob was after his meat. But it happened again the next night, and the next. And it ripped Bob apart inside to see Jay in such consistent pain. Something was definitely up. These weren't just nightmares; these were flashbacks. Bob finally forced it out of him that morning, insisting that Jay fess up. As it turned out, Jay was more than willing to get it off his chest to the only one who'd actually listen and care, delivering the story in monotone, not showing any emotion until Bob had hugged him. And they look at you like they don't speak your language And you're living at the bottom of a well And you swallowed all the awful bloody secrets That you can't tell Bob wished he could have taken Jay's place to keep him from that pain. If not taken his place, then maybe just have been there for him when it happened. If not that, then he'd have settled for murdering that goddamned child rapist with his bare hands. Settled for snapping that stack-of-dimes neck of his. Settled for destroying that fuck's organs by pummeling him with his fists. Settled for bashing his skull in.... and various other gory things that Bob didn't have the energy to think about now. Instead, he focused on the sleeping man in his arms, the most important thing in his life. He took in details that he'd taken for granted not one week ago. With one arm around Jay's shoulders, and the other resting on his lower back, Bob could feel his breathing. He could feel Jay's body going through the motions of staying alive, the twitching of muscles, the flutter of his heartbeat, the slow dragging motion of air filling his lungs. Jay's chest expanded only slightly with each intake, and Bob's hands moved with it. Through the light t-shirt he could feel each individual bone poking through delicate skin. Jay's eyes darted back and forth underneath paper-thin eyelids, tinged purple from lack of sleep. Bob could see Jay's lips, parted slightly, rosebud shaped, dry from all those cigarettes. Tendrils of hair fell down his back, some hanging over his shoulder and falling gently against Bob's chest. Without disturbing him, Bob moved a hand up and smoothed out wild tresses of hair. He flattened long tendrils of gold against Jay's back with the palm of his hand, sighing at the feel of soft, silky strands. Bob repeated the motion, until the shapes and colors around him blurred and softened into darkness. Oh you know you ought to get yourself together But you cannot bear to walk outside your door No, you cannot bear to look into the mirror Anymore, anymore Bob didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up the next morning to realize that Jay had been staring at him. "Hey," he spoke softly; a kind, tired smile edging it's way onto his features. "Hi," Bob answered, tightening his arms around Jay and resting his cheek against the blonde's forehead. And that's when Jay chose to say the single most startling thing he'd ever uttered. "You know, I never knew what love was before this fuckin' morning." A tremendous breath escaped Bob's body, almost like he'd been punched in the gut. Love? Jay never knew what love was? And Bob's mind suddenly recalled a snippet from a conversation they'd had with Holden McNeil, at a greasy restaurant not even one year ago. *Can't do it, G. I'm in love* *Love? Nah, man. Ain't no such thing* Bob's eyes came back into focus to meet Jay's hazel speckled ones that seemed to be staring into his soul. Jay's smile widened. "Nice, huh? It took me all morning to figure it out. But it's true. You.... You do love me, right Lunchbox?" There were several moments in which Bob could not come up with anything that adequately described exactly how he felt about Jay at that very moment. There were so many options.... Jay, I don't love you, I'm in love with you? You don't know how long I've loved you, you dumb blonde? You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on? Jay, I do love you and I wanna grow old with you? Let's fuck like a coupla' horny little monkeys???? *Bob, for Christ's sake, DO SOMETHING!!! Do anything! Now! GO, GO, GO!* Jay waited with baited breath for Bob to answer. And Silent Bob, ever faithful to his name, chose to not say anything. Instead, he took the blonde's chin and tilted his head upwards to the perfect angle, and descended on those rosebud lips. The healing had begun. Oh my crazy baby Try to hold on tight Oh my crazy baby Don't put out the light, the light, The light, the light The end