Title: Dangerous Territory
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, probably post-Mallrats-ish
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: PG-13 for language; NC-17 for sex, hints of rape, non-
consensual physical stuph.
Status: New
Archive: Yes if you let me know
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: Good gods, please no! I don't think I could take 
three more stories like this!
Disclaimers: What Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes don't know I'm doing to 
their alter egos won't hurt them. I make no money on this, all 
characters belong to Kevin Smith and View Askew.
Notes: For some reason, this came to me after reading Janete's 
story "Border Men", which has *nothing* to do with Jay and Bob. 
(It's an Ethan Rayne/John Constantine crossover, and if that doesn't 
scare you, you don't know the names, dear.)
Summary: Jay gets jealous and Bob can't figure out why. Hijinks 
ensue.
Warnings: Het sex. Het sex with Bob involved. Scary non-
consensual moments with Jay and Bob. Fisting scene. (Fisting for 
some reason is a storyline right now. Can't think why.) Think the 
story ends badly on top of it. (Hey, no one wants a rape for 
breakfast, not even Jay; I'm classifying this as an alternative 
universe *of* the alternative universe!) 

"Dangerous Territory"
by Kelandris

It was all his fault. He had to be responsible, and own up to his 
part in this fucked-up mess. It was *him*. He was to blame.

No, it was all the girl's fault. If she hadn't been dancing in the 
club, nothing would have happened. *Nothing*. He would have gone 
home, he would have had a beer and come right back home. No, he 
would never have gone, he wouldn't have left in the first place. If 
it hadn't been for that damned argument--

It was Jay's fault. It was always Jay's fault. Jay started the 
argument, after all, pulling all that jealousy shit out of thin air 
and screaming at him for being nice to some chick he couldn't even 
recall the face of now. It was all Jay's fault. That 
fucker...Jealously, of all the stupid fucked-up shit he's pulled in 
his stupid fucked-up life...*Jealousy*. like Jay owned him or 
something. Like they were married suddenly, or joined at the hip, 
or...Damn it.

Sighing, Silent Bob hung his head in the semidarkness, streetlights 
from outside shining over his dark brown hair. He knuckled his fists 
into his eyes, blinking afterwards, and huddled further against the 
pillow he was folded around.

Okay. Maybe it was the club's fault. Maybe they put something in 
their beer last night�Or the beer company, some fuck-up with the 
wrong ingredients and it was accidentally hallucinogenic or some shit 
like that. Maybe that was what happened...

**Shit.**

***

(earlier)

"--*saw* you lookin' at her ass, Lunchbox, it's not like I never 
fuckin' notice this shit--"

Puzzled look on Silent Bob's face as he taps out another cig from the 
Nails box, shaking his head. What the fuck was Jay on now? He 
snapped the lighter open, the case gleaming in his fist.

"Fuck that shit, tons-a-fun, you and me, here, now, we gonna *talk* 
about this shit! Now you *tell* me, motherfucker, what you were 
doing scannin' her ass!"

**What the hell is this? Not bad enough I have to cope with insult 
after insult *and* still protect your skinny ass; no, now I have to 
*not look* at anyone we happen to be around? What the hell kind of 
partnership is this?**

Aloud, Bob only sighed. He hadn't even had the time to take off his 
leather trench, or kick off his shoes. They'd been walking most of 
the day, and his feet hurt like hell. And now Jay was screaming at 
him, and he had no idea why. Some girl, for some reason, was pulling 
Jay's brain out of shape. It's not as if Jay didn't look at girls. 
Hell, Jay felt most of the ones he saw up, and got slapped, punched, 
kicked and occasionally arrested for it, to boot. Why this one girl 
was making him act so crazed, Bob had *no* idea.

"Jay," he said softly. Jay snarled at him.

"Like you have *any* fuckin' leg to stand on here. What were you 
plannin' to do, huh, drag her ass back here and fuck what brains she 
had away? Like she was even interested in *your* big white ass."

"Like I even know what you're babbling about," Bob snapped, and 
instantly regretted it. Jay shrieked, leaning forward and poking him 
in the chest, over and over.

"Babbling? *Babbling*? Fuck you, asswipe! I'm just tryin' to 
protect *your* goddamn interests, you don't have to go shoving it 
down my pants or some shit--Wait! *Wait*, god damn it!"

Bob, in the process of giving up and going away until Jay regained 
some kind of rational mindset, felt Jay grab his arm. He looked 
down, barely curling his lip. Sadly, it didn't faze Jay in the least.

"Fuckin' Jedi-mind-trick-motherfucker, where the *fuck* do you think 
*you're* goin'?"

Bob rolled his eyes heavenward, opening the door with one hand and 
pulling his arm free with a clean jerk. He glared over his shoulder 
at Jay.

"Out," he said shortly. "Until you get your brain back."

"UNTIL I GET MY--"

The crash of the door closing--louder than Bob had intended, but done 
was done--cut off whatever insult Jay had been screaming, and Bob 
widened his eyes as he walked down the stairs. God, he was tired. 
And confused--what the hell had that all been about? He had *no* 
clue; he wondered if Jay himself even knew.

He decided to go back to the little club he and Trinity used to hang 
out at, before Trinity blew a cog at Jay hanging around all the 
time. He had had no way to explain it then: strange battered street 
kid, suddenly moving in, and even he never knew what the draw was; 
all he knew was that he sensed something, something great and 
powerful and moving behind all Jay's thorns. And on rare occasions, 
he got to see it. Jay was a fan of poetry, for example, and had 
several of Bob's favorite pieces memorized. Jay also had a sweet, 
surprisingly clear tenor when he sang, which he rarely did around 
anyone else. Little pieces of the puzzle, while Bob remained 
patiently nearby, clearing away the underbrush and the thorns he 
could reach, restoring Jay to human being status. It was a hard 
job. Some days it was very rewarding.

Days like today Jay could just go to hell.

The bus arrived, and Bob paid the fare, choosing a window seat for 
his musings. What the hell was it, he wondered, about Jay deciding 
suddenly that he was Bob's only friend? It wasn't like Holden and 
Banky were being pushed aside; hell, Jay had known Bank first, and 
far longer than Bob had known Holden. Or take Randal--Randal took a 
surprising amount of crap from Jay, all because they'd spent a few 
years in the same grade school.

It was mostly the women, Bob thought, and cocked his head to one 
side. That rang some bells, distantly; he thought for a moment, and 
then gave it up, too tired to push the thought through tonight. All 
he wanted tonight was a beer, some good tunes, some quiet there and 
back, then he could face Jay again.

He saw his stop coming up, the neon of the club gleaming on the bus 
windows, and pulled the wire. The bus wheezed to a halt, and he 
jumped from the back doors, arranging his trench when he landed, 
strolling self-confidently to the doors. The bouncer knew him and 
nodded, moving slightly to one side. He nodded back; it had been a 
few years, but maybe he still qualified as a regular.

Inside, the club was dark and smoky. The music was a regular beat; 
mostly solid percussion, some rising instrumentation here and there. 
People came here to dance, and drink, and dance, and drink some more, 
and go home. No frills wanted or requested. He liked it here; 
couldn't recall if he'd stopped coming because Trin had wanted him 
to, or Jay had wanted him not to. He didn't think it mattered either 
way.

He grabbed a longneck from the bartender and moved into the crowd. 
He wanted to find a table and watch the dance floor, in that order. 
And he would have, but for the flash of blonde hair he saw in a 
strobed second. What the hell? He moved in closer, angling his head 
around other patrons, pushing his way nearly to the edge of the dance 
floor, searching for that flash of gold.

There it was again. Everything clenched inside for one long, pulse-
pounding second, while his brain screamed at him that Jay had 
followed Bob to the club. He forced the paranoia down, and 
concentrated. No. It wasn't Jay. The moves were similar, but not 
exact, and the grey sweatshirt jacket hid a smaller frame. But the 
hair, that long length of pounded brass gleaming with reflected 
colors from the lights overhead...that was scarily similar. From the 
back, he knew why he'd taken the dancer for his roommate.

And just like that he was on his feet, the beer drained and dropped 
to the table, and he moved onto the dance floor, sliding up close 
behind the dancer with Jay's hair. He let the beat fill him, let 
himself get into it, dancing like he hadn't done since Trin had 
left. Always moving with the hair, getting close enough to smell it 
on occasion. It was clean, pristine, but that was Suave if he wasn't 
mistaken. His nose had gotten slightly more sensitive where hair was 
concerned, once Jay and his Mobile Conditioning Service had moved 
into his home.

Just then the lights strobed like fireworks, flash pots going off and 
showering the metal dance floor with silver sparks, and the dancer 
with the hair looked over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled, living 
sapphire chips, and she was smiling. She turned, whipping that fall 
of gold behind her, and danced close to him, trailing her hands up 
his body to his neck.

"Fuck, you must be hot in that," she yelled.

He shrugged. Kind of. He looked into her eyes, and felt a twinge of 
something. He couldn't place it, didn't want to. Bob smiled back.

The hands tightened around his neck, released. Fingers trailed over 
his ears; he shuddered and she smiled wider.

"Yeah, you're Trin's old boy, aren't you?"

His eyebrows rose. She knew Trinity?

She nodded. "Dangerous but *cute*," she said, wrinkling her nose on 
the last word. 

The eyebrows rose higher, but he shrugged again, spinning her out 
into a space in the crowd and spinning her back against him.

"Dangerous how?" he said, putting his lips against her ear. She 
giggled, leaning forward and cupping his crotch suggestively.

"Dangerous *here*..." she breathed. 

His clinical brain took over. **Hell, how can you *not* cup 
someone's crotch suggestively?** he thought. Then the compliment 
sunk in. **Well, fuck me,** he thought, oddly pleased by the 
situation. Yet again there was that odd twinge. It tied into 
whatever it was he'd been thinking on the bus. That bit about...

He heard a zipper. Dear God, it was his! He looked down, and her 
hand was already snaking inside his pants, tracing his growing 
hardness over his shorts. Gasping, he tried to pull back, and bumped 
into a couple behind him.

"Watch it, a-hole," the man snarled, no heat behind the words. 
**No,** he thought hysterically, **I've got all the heat right here.**

"Umm," he said softly, hoping she'd hear him. "Shouldn't we...?"

She nodded, pulling her hand out and zipping him up. She giggled 
again when she ran into difficulty. He inhaled and tried to think 
calming thoughts. 

"I know just the place," she said, pulling him towards the back of 
the dance floor. They ended up at the far end of the small stage, 
and there was a metal door there, which she quickly opened and slid 
through. He followed, finding himself in an alley behind the club. 
Wasn't much here, not even a dumpster--both the dumpsters for the 
club, and the restaurant beside it, were in the alley on the other 
side. Some trash, some beer bottles; that was about it.

She pulled him against her, kissing him for the first time. Her lips 
were soft, her tongue pointed. She tasted like whiskey and lipstick, 
and he shivered instinctively. She pulled him towards a wall, 
leaning back against it and kissing him while her hands were busy at 
his waist. She fought the zipper, dogged determination revealed on 
her face when he pulled back, smiling and gasping for air. Then she 
disappeared.

He blinked, seeing brick, then his vision hazed over as her mouth 
engulfed him, drawing him into hot, wet suction. It had been far too 
long since he'd been with a woman--since he'd been with *anyone*, 
really. Trinity had been the last, and that had been...Damn. That 
had been a good two years ago. Maybe three.

He blinked again, leaning forward slightly to brace himself against 
the brick wall. "Fuck," he breathed.

"Oh, sugar," she said, rising from the alley floor. "I'm planning on 
it." And she shucked her jeans down, bending her knees open, coming 
close to him. "Wanna find out how much?"

One hand, as if on autopilot, traced over her breasts, the nipples 
taut and hard. It sank to her belly, fingers tracing over the 
pattern of fur-delicate hair, fingers moving towards the wet heat he 
could smell coming from her in waves. Fingers tangling in hot, wet 
hair, fingers splaying slightly, sinking, sinking between tender, 
slick, puffy lips...

She was panting, her hips thrusting forward, making small mewling 
noises under her breath. Suddenly he pulled his hand back, his eyes 
reflecting stars, and turned her around. Yeah. That was better. 
The sweatshirt, the jeans around the ankles, that sweet pale 
ass...The fall of long, blonde hair, nearly brushing his fingertips�
He bent her forward at the waist, waiting until she was braced 
against the wall, and grabbed his hard cock in his hand, thrusting 
towards her.

"Yeah," she breathed, then "Wait, wait a minute, hold on..." She 
reached into one front pocket; he heard a crinkle of foil and a 
tearing sound. She handed back an open condom square; he reached in 
neatly, plucking the condom out and unrolling it quickly, all the way 
down. Tight on him; obviously she didn't buy Magnums that often.

"And here," she said, breathless. She reached into the pocket again 
and brought out a small tube of lubricant. He fought back giggles, 
but took it gracefully, squirting a thick dollop into his palm, 
rubbing it along the latex. He was rubbing the rest into her--not 
that she needed any help--when he heard Jay's voice behind him.

"Get your mitts offa him, bitch, that meat's mine."

They both turned, shock on her face as well as his. And what a way 
to get caught in the act, huh? Moments before some kind, *any* kind, 
of satisfaction, and Bob still holding his cock in his hand. God was 
mocking him, to borrow a phrase. He could feel her slickness on his 
fingers, and the slickness of the lube. It took everything he had to 
step away and pull the trench tight around himself.

Every pulse traced down to the head of his cock and back. The head 
rubbing against the inside of his leather was excruciating, and the 
girl's yells were worse.

"Who the fuck do you think *you* are, then, street meat? Go on, push 
it on some other corner--"

"Morther*fuck*. Don't no one listen anymore? I will break your 
*fucking* skull, you don't pack up your toys and leave--"

Bob cleared his throat. He stepped closer to the girl, ignoring 
Jay's shrieks at that, carefully pulling up her jeans, pulling down 
her shirt, smoothing her hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, one hand on her hair, one hand on her 
shoulder. She swallowed, but nodded.

"I'll take care of this. Go back inside."

"Should I�" Quick glance over her shoulder; no possibility of 
misinterpretation there. "Should I call the cops?"

Bob glanced at Jay, watched as the blond's hands curled into fists. 
He shook his head.

"No, I'll be fine. Go now."

With a worried glance back at them, she walked quickly to the other 
end of the alley. She turned the corner and was gone. He wrapped 
the trench tighter, and turned back to face Jay.

"I oughta kick your motherfuckin' *ass*, fat boy."

"Shut up."

"Who the fuck you tellin' to--"

Bob looked at him, his eyes dark, nearly non-reflective. Jay 
swallowed. But he walked forward anyway, quick enough that Bob 
didn't have the time to, didn't have the warning to dodge. He 
grabbed him by the lapels, throwing him up against the wall.

"Turn my back for one fucking second and this is what you do with 
it," Jay snarled. Bob just shook him, tearing the shirt slightly. 
Jay pulled back, his lips curling away from his teeth, and...

*(Had it been then? Was that when? It was his fault. Had to be. 
Jay would never have--)*

Bucking Jay away from him, Bob grabbed the blond by the shirt, 
tossing him hard against the bricks. All the air left Jay's body, 
but fire snapped in his eyes when he looked up. Then Jay leaned 
back, aiming a punch at Bob's jaw. Bob just ducked, his grip on the 
shirt firm. It tore down the center, the sound louder than he 
actually thought it was, and he was left holding one half of the 
shirt in each hand. Still Jay fought him, until finally, he spun the 
boy, pressing him face first against the alley wall.

"Shut. The fuck. *Up*," Bob said carefully. He held Jay to the 
wall by force of will, one hand on the back of his head, one hand on 
his back. Jay fought him but he held him there. The trench slipped 
open slightly while Jay was fighting back, and Bob gasped as his hard 
cock butted against Jay.

"Or what?" the blond gasped, sounding near tears. "You'll *fuck* me 
to death?"

That was it, Bob thought. That was the last fucking straw. *Fuck* 
if he was going to stand around, listening to this waste of air 
insult him for no fucking reason he could understand. That was 
*it*. That was...

**What?**

"What did you say?" he whispered.

"Go on, fucker, go *on*, already! Beat the shit outta me, it won't 
be the first fuckin' time!"

**But that's not what you said...**

*(Had it been then? Had it been Jay's fault, then? Had it been what 
Jay said that made him--)*

He leaned closer, tangling one of his fists in Jay's long hair, 
pulling the man's head back. He noted without surprise the wet 
cheeks, the trembling lips.

"Do *not* fuck with the hair," Jay whispered through gritted teeth.

"But fucking with you's okay?" Bob asked.

Jay stopped breathing, as suddenly as if Bob had punched him in the 
stomach.

"What?" he said. His voice sounded high. Scared. Breathy and young 
and--

Bob reached a hand around, unsnapping Jay's jeans, sliding the zipper 
down slowly. Jay began to fight like paramedics were holding him, or 
cops; kicking, biting, arms flailing out in all directions. Bob 
dodged what he could, sliding the jeans lower and lower on Jay's hips.

One part of Bob's brain was horrified, asking small questions that 
Bob wasn't letting himself hear. The rest of his brain seemed 
distantly reflective; the what-will-happen-if-I-do-this? mentality 
that had gotten him in so much trouble in the past. There was a lot 
of weight up there suddenly, as if the whole of his brain had been 
dipped in lead. But he kept going, fighting Jay to stillness again 
and again.

He slipped a hand, still coated with lube, between the narrow cheeks 
of Jay's ass, and Jay whimpered, starting to shiver. The hand moved 
through the cleft, and Bob put his body weight against Jay's back, 
forcing him to lean forward.

"Bob...fuck..." Jay breathed. 

It wasn't the denial Bob had been waiting for. Finally, he found 
that small puckered entrance, and slowly guided a finger in. Shit, 
but he was tight, even around that one finger. His breath hitched in 
his chest; he heard Jay gasping, too. He moved his finger in deeper, 
curling it slightly against resistance.

"Oh, God..."

Bob closed his eyes, listening to Jay whimper. He pulled back, 
sliding in another finger. Where was that bottle�Leaning against 
Jay, his other hand fumbled through pockets until he found the small 
lube container the girl had left behind. With a sudden pang, he 
realized he'd never even heard her name. Damn.

He poured another dollop on the finger he pulled from Jay, a second 
dollop into the palm. Capping the lube again, he dropped it into 
another pocket, and slid more lube-slicked fingers into Jay. He was 
shuddering now, body twitches, and his breath was coming in slow, 
short, almost pained-sounding gasps.

"Does it hurt?" he asked softly.

"Motherfucker, what do you *think*? Of all the dumb-fuck questions--"

He slid in more fingers, only the thumb outside of Jay now. The 
blond cried out, bucking against the harsh brick.

"Does it hurt worse when I go off with a woman?"

"When you...what?"

Bob bit his lip, seeing the shape of the thing but not the whole of 
it. He needed more. More light, more information, more time...More 
inside Jay. Twisting, he stretched Jay, hearing him cry out again, 
saying something against the wall he couldn't make out. He turned 
the hand again, up to the knuckles now, and slowly, slowly slid in 
his thumb.

"Oh, fuck...God...fuck, God, fuck, you gotta--you gotta--"

"What?" Soft voice, Bob thought. Such a soft voice. People 
wondered why he never yelled. He didn't have to. When he was mad 
people knew it. Jay knew it now, the trembling starting up fresh, 
and not just from all of Bob's hand in him, and pushing, pushing past 
the knuckle.

"Gotta--gotta--fuck, you gotta--*fuck*," he moaned.

"Excellent idea," Bob whispered, sliding his hand out of Jay and 
standing up. Jay, suddenly free, didn't move for one second too 
long. Long enough, at least, for Bob to reach into another pocket, 
pull out a knife, snick it open and slice through the crotch of Jay's 
jeans. It took a couple strokes but Jay had suddenly froze; there 
was no *way* he was moving right then, and Bob knew it.

Kicking the shreds of the denim down around Jay's boots, he kicked 
the blond's legs farther apart, and pushed him against the wall 
again. Grabbing his cock, he thrust into Jay with one smooth motion, 
relishing the sudden feeling of heat and pressure surrounding him. 
He fastened the hand not holding Jay down in his hair, pulling his 
head back onto his shoulder.

"Is this what you wanted?" Bob hissed. He pulled out a little, then 
thrust back in, hard. Jay's eyes widened, filling with tears again. 
He shook his head. Bob pulled harder, until the tears flowed down 
Jay's shocked face.

"*Is it?*"

There was a pause as their eyes locked. Something was communicated; 
something was screamed; nothing was openly said. "Yes," Jay finally 
whimpered. He swallowed convulsively, pulling his head away until he 
realized Bob wasn't letting go. 

"Please, don't--I don't want--"

"*Fuck what you want,*" Bob snarled, and pulled him farther back from 
the wall, taking a step back himself. Jay, attached as he was, 
tottered backward with him, then got pushed almost headfirst into the 
wall when Bob bent him full over. Instinctively, Jay's arms rose, 
bracing his weight, and Bob simply nodded, all thought whiting out in 
the sheer physical bliss of thrusting into Jay's tight, trembling and 
clenching around him.

"Uh," Jay said. "Uh, uh, uh�" His hands clenched against the wall. 
Bob thrust into him, both hands on Jay's hips now, slamming into him 
and pulling out and pulling Jay back on the next stroke. Heat and 
pressure and now Jay was pushing back from the wall, pushing against 
him, back arching and moans coming from his throat. Bob sped up, 
fucking Jay harder than he'd ever fucked a woman, hardly able to 
catch his breath. So *good*, he thought. So *tight*. So�

"Ahh!" he cried out. He pulled Jay hard against him, feeling his 
balls draw up, the tip of his cock twitching inside Jay.

"Yeah," Jay panted. "Yeah, fuck yeah, come...*come*..."

That was all it took, his hands clenching down so hard on Jay's hips 
he'd probably have bruises in the morning. He thrust into him once 
more, feeling the jet of fluid from his twitching cock fill the 
already strained condom, and pulled out quickly, pulling the rubber 
off with a twist and tying it. Jay gasped when he withdrew, the 
muscles jumping in his legs, and then began to shiver as Bob stepped 
away, tossing the spent rubber into a pile of garbage nearby.

He looked down the alleyway. It *was* getting cold out here. And 
Jay didn't have pants.

Bob blinked, something surging up in him that he frantically pushed 
back. He watched silently as Jay kicked off the remains of his jeans 
in a kind of daze, then shucked off his trench and handed it to the 
blond, turning away to fasten his own pants. He didn't remember 
leaving the alley. He didn't remember the bus ride home. He didn't 
remember even *riding* the bus home.

He thought he might have been in shock.

All he did remember was walking in to the apartment, making for his 
room, and quietly closing the door. Sleep was so far from the 
question he didn't even bother undressing; just curled up in the 
middle of his bed with the lights off, wrapped around a pillow.

*(Was it the girl? Just because she looked a little like Jay? Would 
he have gotten as upset with anybody? Would I have...)*

**Shit.**

***

A noise at the connecting door made him look up. Jay stood there, 
his face outlined in dim red from the lit joint in his hand.

"Good to see you're not sleepin' either," he said, his voice thick. 
Bob, used to silence, still had literally no idea what to say. He 
blinked, wrapping his arms tighter around the pillow.

"Don't fuckin' apologize, that is the *last* fuckin' thing I wanna 
hear from you." Slowly, as if it hurt--and suddenly Bob had a flash 
that it might, and quickly forced his mind away from why--Jay moved 
into the room, sitting with a small noise on the foot of the bed.

"I ain't gonna say I'm sorry, neither." But he passed the joint over 
to Bob, who, after a brief hesitation, took it. Might as well, what 
the hell else could happen? He inhaled deeply, the acrid bite of the 
smoke filling his lungs, and held it until he saw stars. Then he 
released it, hanging his head, and handed the joint back. The 
familiar flush of heat rushed through him, and he exhaled again, 
blinking.

Jay took a drag, watching the joint burn down, holding it in turn 
while he looked at the shadows on the far wall. He puffed smoke out 
on a long breath of air.

"Okay. I been thinkin' about some shit. Why I been jealous and all."

Bob's eyebrows rose and Jay grimaced.

"Yeah, fuck you, I'm serious. I..." Surprisingly, Jay looked 
away. "I ain't been tellin' you everything. And..." Jay shrugged, 
looking over at Bob for the first time.

"And maybe you haven't been all honest with me either."

Bob swallowed this time, blinking at the sudden prick of tears in his 
eyes.

A sudden flash of Jay, pressed against the wall as Bob's cock grazed 
along his denims, seared through him. He made some startled noise, 
pulling away from Jay, but the blond only nodded.

"Yeah," he sighed, "like that. Maybe we need to talk, like, get some 
of this shit out."

But it was a long time, passing the joint back and forth, before 
either of them said another word.

END
******************