Title: Dizzy
Author: gracelessone
Fandom: ViewAskewniverse
Pairing: Jay and Silent Bob
Rating: again, this part is PG, they *will* get naked before this is over though (or I'll kill them)
Status: New
Archive: oh I'd wait and see if it dwindles into a pile o crap
Series: this should be a stand alone but I have no freakin' idea
Disclaimer: I own nothing but 3 dozen empty gatorade bottles and 2 packs of smokes, I'm pretty sure Kevin Smith owns the 
rest of the universe. Update, I'm down to 1 pack of smokes, ack.
Notes: it was supposed to be short and sweet! with lots of sex! my first fic and the little stoners are already giving me 
problems *grr*
Summary: I *hate* summaries, I *suck* at summaries. so you don't get one. Sue me.
Warnings: first time J/SB slasher *gulp*

Dizzy

Bob kept his hand on the boys arm, watching the cops leave. It looked like a light touch but the kid could feel the steel 
lurking under there. Damn. This could end up worse than Juvie.

**Nah, fuck that. Nuttin's worse than juvie... fuckers shoving him up against the wall in the showers and--**

He skittered away from that memory. Too much blood and needle sharp pain there. 

He watched the hand on his arm. What was this going to cost him? Some small part of him was tallying up the tattered pieces 
of his soul that remained. Some small part of him screamed in vain, trying to tell him that he couldn't afford much more. He 
was getting close to that last thread. The one that when you pull it unravels the entire tapestry and all you are left with 
is a pile of worn dulled colors.

"so, what now? you gonna throw me `gainst the wall for a quick fuck? at least drag me around back man."

The words were harsh but the voice behind them was more tired than angry. There was a teeth-gritting resignation twisting in 
there that made Bob pause. He was just going to go on and get his smokes then head home. He should just go. Walk. Away. His 
feet weren't listening.

Damn.

Bob slowly and pointedly took his hand of the kids arm. Reaching into a pocket he pulled out his cigarettes. With a sigh he 
crumpled up the empty pack. Oh yeah. That's why he was here. Well it used to be why he was here. Catching the blonde's eye 
he tilted his chin towards the door of the convenience store and headed in. He didn't check to see if his new friend was 
following.

Jay didn't follow him into the store, but he was still there when Bob came back out. By then Bob had convinced himself, feet 
included, to walk past this one. There were complications here he didn't need. The blonde had slumped against the building, 
still talking, mumbling really, to himself. Bob expected to hear more cursing as he got closer. 

"I am the dog that dies in the streets of Troy"

Bob's eyebrows shot up and his feet stumbled to a halt. That was a quote. That was a *poetry* quote. 

He leaned against the wall next to this blonde complication and shook out two cigarettes. His life had been pretty dull 
lately anyway. 

Jay took the cigarette with shaking hands, letting the dark haired man light it for him. He didn't want this to turn into a 
trick. This guy was quiet as all fuck. Even his *face* was quiet. There was *nothing* to see, nothing to read. It scared Jay 
and the twitchy blonde could take a lot of shit but just standing there, scared, brought too many demons out. Too many 
nights waiting for a hand to turn the doorknob. Too many days waiting to see if the hand was gonna stroke his hair or punch 
him in the stomach.

**Fuck this.**

"You gotta name or what? What the fuck'dya say to that asshole anyways? Damn that was fucked up, stupid cock smoking bitch 
callin' da cops on me, I should kick his ass--"

Jay was asking questions and throwing out comments without expecting any replies. When he talked he couldn't hear the voice 
in his head. When he talked he didn't have to think. When he talked he stopped remembering. Remembering things like that 
last night, that party, pain and blood and too many hands, too much hurt. 

Bob put his hand on the blonde's arm. The contact startled Jay into sucking in a desperate breath.

**here it comes ohfuckohfuckohfuck**

"Name's Bob. Nothing much. The clerk's a friend a mine, no ass kicking. I talked to him, won't happen again."

Jay stared at Bob, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly bone dry lips. What the fuck was this guy talking about? Wait. 
He was answering him? He had actually *listened* to what Jay was saying? What the fuck?

Bob raised one eyebrow and watched the kid's face. He was too young to be on the streets, too angry too arrogant and too
damn breakable. Those blue eyes were flickering with emotion. Confusion and distrust and a deep, deep fear. 

"What's your story?"

Bob settled back against the wall, calmly smoking and waiting to see what this tall skinny bundle of nerves would do.

TBC

graceless
(god knows I know I've thrown away those graces)

the quote is from Last Words by James Merrill