Title:  Dead Level
Author:  starlastumbleine (@yahoo.com)
Fandom:  View Askewniverse
Pairing:  Jay/Silent Bob
Rating:  R or something.  I donno.
Disclaimer:  I don't own or make any money off of Jay and Silent Bob. I am not profiting from this fic. That's 'fic' for 
*fiction,* by the way.
Notes:  I think Kel lobbed this idea into the old mental fountain a while ago (over on LiveJournal). And OMG it's 
Relatively Angstless. WTF?! I hope it doesn't make the thing seem... unnatural. But I combined the idea with my 
Makeout!Fic idea. It's taken a while to get this one out. It was clawing at me.

xxxxxx

Silent Bob learned years ago that when he lost Jay to the pulse of the dark, surging with bodies and music, or to a crowd 
enveloping and accepting him as one of their anonymous rank, all he had to do was think really hard, and the boy would 
appear, almost magically. Twenty minutes before he was going to finish this beer and actually go suggest that they blow 
the joint (before indignant neighbors insisted on showing up on the doorstep with authority in tow), this is exactly what 
happened.

There was a thud, above him, coming from the second floor balcony in this nice, spacious suburban Jersey home, a few 
lighter thuds in succession, and Jay fell from the overhang to collide with the deck. Eight high school kids scattered 
from the porch, out to the lawn, back into the house, and resumed sipping their girly Smirnoff fruit drinks. Jay groaned, 
pushed himself up on his elbows, and shook his head free of the last of his two-beer buzz.

"Dude that was so not worth it."

Silent Bob didn't question the that of 'that' or the it of 'it.' He simply threw Jay a twitch of the brow from his position 
leaning against the deck's wooden banister.

Jay shook his head again in disgust. Stood. Shook the rest of him.

"We're the fuck out of here." He waved for Bob to follow him through the house.

They were thrown a few respectable nods on their way out, offered more pussy beer and pansy-ass watered-down liquor, all 
of which they refused.  Stephanie met them at the door, quieting her drunken friend's play-by-play of the tumble Jay had 
just taken off the balcony. She briefly apologized that the night hadn't been all she'd expected out of her party and Jay 
just waved her off.

"Not a big deal, just don't call me again. I can't stand hauling my ass out this far and you and your Jesus friends don't 
want nothin' to do with any of my action." And he basically *shoved* Stephanie aside.

"I didn't know my friends would invite all their little- ah- loser- ah fucking Mormon buddies!  You can't do this to me!  
We wanted the heavy stuff, Jay." she whined, flipping her dyed red hair over her shoulder, twitching her friend's hand from 
her arm.

Jay paused on his stalk out to the front walk. He turned on his heel, nodded at the driveway, and back to Stephanie again.  
"Look, Laguna Beach, you can afford gas for your Escalade, you can afford to pay me for my shit. I don't do no credit and I 
don't do no discounts. I told you when you called th-"

"Daddy pays for my gas." She hugged her arms to herself, trying to look indignant and barely making it past embarrassed.  
"I didn't have the chance to dig through mom's purse, but you can have all her Vikes and my dad's leftover Zopiclone."

Jay rolled his eyes and scrunched up his face in that semi-confused totally pissed look. At his side, Silent Bob threw his 
beer bottle into the grass and shoved his hands in his pockets as a note of finality. Jay had been right. Tonight was a 
total waste. Whatever verbal thrashing Jay was about to give was what the girl deserved.

"Bitch, I don't even know what that is!"  Jay threw up his hands, scrunched closed his eyes. "And I don't care. I don't 
*care.*"  He cut himself short of the impending beat-down. "My time is valuable and your friends," his eyes flew open and 
he gestured at the small gaggle of girls who trailed after her, "don't even got ass enough for my fucking viewing pleasure."  
Jay spun on his heel and pushed Silent Bob towards the street.  "Go, tubby.  Move it."

"And," Jay quietly hissed as they approached the bus stop on the main drag, "don't say you told me so, because, technically, 
you didn't."

Silent Bob's puppy-dog frown spoke of more technicalities like feigned hurt and confusion. Until Jay looked away. And he 
smirked. Not a total waste. Pissed Jay was more fun than fucked-up Jay any day of the week.

From the time they started waiting for the bus to the time Bob pulled the cord for their stop, Jay didn't cease complaining 
about the exact shape, weight, height and bust size of every 'lame' chick at Stephanie's little soiree. He went from hating 
flat chests to hating huge nipples and vacillated between loathing fake blondes or pantylines more.

Surprisingly, he only paused in detailing his list of complaints to offer what Silent Bob could only consider a sort of 
appreciation for his best friend.

"It's nice, y'know, Silent Bob, ta know that if I ever got really messed up with those kinds a chicks I'd have you to beat 
some sense into me."

"Hard to believe you'd let me beat you in any way, Jay," he raised a brow, making a point of what he'd already emphasized, 
simply by talking. Jay could offer up the occasional genuine compliment, but but it wasn't as if anything he said held for 
even ten minutes after it left his mouth. The blond made easy work of creating his own reality where the shit he spewed was 
all right all the time, even when it was the opposite of what he'd previously believed or voiced. Such was the life of a 
drunk, a drug dealer, an ex-junkie. Full of his own version of the facts.

Bob stood, to get off the bus and Jay rose with him. "I didn't mean in a dirty way, but whatever." He slapped Bob's ass, 
ushering him into the aisle. "Hottie."

This gave Silent Bob another moment's pause. Geeze. That was more like two compliments in one day. The fuck?

Climbing up the stairs to their apartment, he realized that this flattery was something a bit more. This was Jay's In Lieu 
of Something to Do *Flirting.*

This was fun, too, Bob had to admit.  Jay might be hostile, later on, if he mentioned anything about it, but when Jay 
flirted, flattered, groped and even when he got protective of him, Silent Bob loved it. Treasured it. The residual hostility 
was usually pent-up sexual frustration or a case of the Mean Drunks, anyway if it ever did appear. Usually (and hopefully 
this time) Jay would eventually slink away, quiet his teasing and laugh it all off. He most likely counted on Bob's 
acknowledgement of his usual sexual nature.

When stoned, yes. When drunk, certainly. When pissed or recently snubbed and working through it, perhaps. Never when he was 
fully in his tree. He wasn't mad about what had happened with business tonight. They hadn't been bad off lately and it 
wasn't that huge of a deal, no matter how much Jay complained. Sexually frustrated? Silent Bob cocked his head to the side 
and watched Jay practically *strut* into the apartment, head swaying to some slow, thrusty beat. Well, he might say sexually 
frustrated but the telltale Roommate Signs did not point to yes on that one. No moaning in the night, no unnecessarily long 
showers, shit, he'd even been less skittery than normal.

Jay threw the keys at (not on to) the table, and wondered aloud if Bob were, in fact, made in Texas and not Jersey. "You 
know I hear tell they make 'em big in Texas," accent, imaginary lasso. As he dropped down on the couch, he started babbling 
theories about the comparable sizes of Bob's various body parts before Bob decided that maybe he'd just take the delusory 
chattering as complimentary and leave it at that. It's good for the soul, he thought, as Jay climbed over his lap and 
sprawled, head at one end of the sofa, feet at the other. He lay draped over Bob like a towel for a while, chattering away 
at himself. The point wasn't the talk so much as the physical ministrations. Silent Bob just grinned in the appropriate 
places, nodded at the rather liberal (rather lewd) praises. Jay sat up on his lap and straddled him, knees on either side, 
tugging Bob's hair and twisting his cap around.

"And you know what they say about a man with big feet." He heard Jay conclude before, "tonight sucks. Let's get down to a
bar or something, man. A club. Or something." Jay sighed. Silent Bob felt the heavy breath hum through his thighs and up 
his chest he was so close.

Bob pulled in a breath through his nose and got a lungful of Jay's shampoo and the lingering Heineken taste that had made 
him wish for a real beer. The bar might be good, but the way Jay was still buzzingly sober would more likely mean a club 
and a few pills. He couldn't deal with that tonight. Not the way Jay's heat reminded him of how much more he'd rather have 
a warm body to luxuriate with right now. Maybe he was the frustrated one. He removed his hands from the cushions next to him 
and placed one on each of Jay's thighs.

"Didn't nobody said you could get fresh, boy." Jay smirked. "So which is it? I got a body that needs movin'." He wriggled.

Wriggled, Jesus. Bob slid his hands up, from thighs to hips. "Shit," he murmured, "I could stay in."

"*Cuh.* Right. And do what. Aren't you bored?"

He shook his head. "Just not as hyper as you."

Jay's eyes narrowed, smirk widening to a full grin. "Or are you just interested in another type a body movin'?"

Jay moved one leg and kneeled it between Bob's thighs, pressing in slightly, his knee meeting the crotch of his jeans, but 
just ever so *slowly.* He let his fingers creep down to the waist of Bob's jeans and up and over and tapped patterns on 
the skin under his shirt.

Bob uttered a holy reverence. Or a blasphemous curse. And Jay pressed his lips to his friend's with bruising force, tongue
attacking at once, lusting its way in.

Huh. Damn. And he was considering going to a *bar.* Having all this flirting mess come to fruition was, like, way fucking 
better.

"Shirt," Jay gasped a minute later.  He'd managed the word between teeth and breath and lips and seemed to forget the rest.  
"Goes," he completed a while after that, finding the power to push up the fabric and squabbled with it until it fell from 
behind Bob's head. He took the moment to breathe, to wonder if he could make this last. To check Silent Bob's eyes and know 
he could.

Jay's scratchy little bitten nails curved up and over Bob's shoulders, his thin fingers curled over the muscles there, 
squeezed, and ran back down, atop Bob's chest and whispered upon his nipples, echoing his earlier flatteries in Bob's mind 
with the appropriate touches. He ran the tips of his fingers back up, slowly, two more times, back and down. All the while, 
his eyes kissed at his friend's face, studying the twitch of lip for delight, pain, pleasure. Things he saw in this tough 
mug every day, but never took so much out of. He had never simply sat and taken pleasure in the heavy eyes Silent Bob laid 
on him, the sheer appreciation when he spied Jay's own skin. He did this now, forcing Jay's shirt over his head so that
they were even, chest to chest.

Jay, he had thought, could make an energetic lover, or a slow, doped-out one. This flatly lucid Jay was a whole new animal.  
This dead-level Jay, he knew, wouldn't angst over the consequences of their frenzied touches or try to pass emotions off as 
intoxication. He'd force them both off the couch for food in thirty minutes, not just lay there in stoned, sated glory. 
This could be flat-out Fun. And Hot.

And he was pulling the boy back on top of him, now, reclining. Pulling Jay to him, his thin arms scrunched between them, 
his palms now flat over Bob's chest, warm weights in the cool air of the living room. Jay let his legs both fall between 
Bob's thighs and his friend appreciated this more than anything so far. He clamped his legs around Jay's. Squeezed. The 
blond's mouth curled into a smile, lids drooping and that's all Bob saw before he pressed his mouth to the grin.

Bob crushed Jay to him as his mouth fell open wide for exploration. Jay didn't disappoint. His tongue found Bob's and 
*pressed,* as if he were trying to crawl inside.  Bob's tongue fought with him, having its try of climbing inside. Jay's 
hands pushed up from Bob's chest, curved over his neck and he clutched at either side of his face, holding him still, 
claiming oral domination... as was his habit.

This made the bigger man smile into the kiss again, and let up on his clutch of Jay's form so they'd part for a little air.  
The two separated with a wet hush of air that seemed to echo and make itself huge in the quiet room, for once devoid of the 
whir of game systems or the electronic buzz of the television.

The slight separation only charged Bob up, filling him with heat and determination. He clamped his jean-clad thighs tighter 
around Jay's and pulled his knees up, jerking the blond higher up his body. Jay Oh'd in surprise and splayed his hands on 
the couch, at either side of Bob's head, lifting himself over the man. And he dove again, energetically lapping at Bob's 
mouth, tasting him, tonguing his teeth, wetly smacking their lips together.

"Like this," he sighed finally, nodding to Bob and swaying his body atop him a few times, testing, wondering.

Me, too, Bob quirked his red, red lips.

.end.
swear to shake it up if you swear to listen