Title: Even After Everything Author: Kelandris the Mad Fandom: View Askewniverse AU, six stories in and no hope in sight Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob Rating: R for language, NC-17 in spots for sex. Homosexuality, some sexual activity verging on non-consensual, some drug action and hallucinatory experiences. Status: New Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note... Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net Series/Sequels: Sequels everything in the "Dangerous Territory" downline. Do I have to mention how friggin' many there are now? Disclaimer: Nobody makes money off this but the people who deserve to. Hopefully that's still mostly Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes and View Askew Productions. Notes: Oolgh. The horror continues. Another songfic. In a heavy NIN mood, for some reason. Summary: Jay gets high and has an epiphany. No, not an overdose, an *epiphany*. Warnings: That verging on non-con stuph with Bob. A brief mention of some ultraviolence. Getting lost in pretty colors. Oh, and this finally ENDS the "Dangerous Territory" badness. "Even After Everything" by Kelandris Bar. Smoky bar. Bodies jammed together on the dance floor, moving so fast there should be heat craze rising from the friction. Or maybe open flame, the conflagration of the dance, *in loco absentis*. Movement. Music. Hearts beating to the downbeat. Blond by the bar, leaning on the far edge. Dangerous look in his eyes. Smoking down a wet stick, looking around for his shadow. The new lines of pain on his face deepen when that shadow detaches from the wall, walking to his side. Man in leather, reaching out for the joint, snapping his fingers when it's not handed over. Jay sighs, flicking the stick to the ground, stepping on it, grinding it against the char marks on the floor from a hundred other joints and cigs. Silent Bob nods once, scanning the crowd, moving back to the wall. Jay turns to the bar, motions for another beer. They don't talk anymore, not even as much as they used to. Jay's friends notice the change. The sonic boom has been muffled. The hand grenade in hand- me-downs hasn't exploded once. Still, there's time. The bartender brings over the beer, palming the fiver Jay leaves on the bar, and Jay watches the mirror. *I've become impossible holding on to when when everything seemed to matter more the two of us all used all used and beaten up watching fate as it flows down the path we have chose* The PCP on the stick should be hitting any minute now, he thinks, and he sees Bob's attention turn away just long enough for him to swallow the tab of X that Crissie'd slipped to him earlier. Something should hit soon. Something should take away the pain, the loss, the feeling he was destroying something that could never be rebuilt. Something. Anything. He no longer cares. When it comes, it comes from an entirely unexpected direction. He remembers sitting at the bar, downing the last of the beer he'd ordered, knowing that he'd made that one go slow in the hopes he wouldn't miss the X when it came on. He gestures the bartender over for another, and when it's delivered, he gets lost in the lovely amber glow of the bottle, on the drops of sparkling condensation as they fall from the great height of the lip. He blinks, astounded, and looks at the bottles behind the bar. The mirror's nearly too bright to look at, and the bottles there are glowing in soft, muted jewel tones. Blue, amber, diamondine clear, ruby, all glowing with their own internal fire. He turns his attention, astounded and amazed, to the reflection of the bar behind the bottles, and catches sight of people moving through the crowd, dancing on the dance floor, trailing fire through the air with every movement. Sparkle of green over the redhead dancing in front of three companions on fire. Sparkle of blue at the other end of the bar. And next to the wall-- Bob. Oh, my God, Bob. He burns with a dark fire, outlining all his limbs in brilliant darkness. It's almost like seeing him in photonegative, and Jay watches, entranced, every inhalation, every puff of smoke he sends out to drift over the patrons, every time his eyes move. Once, their eyes meet through the glass and he stops breathing, want and fear and lust and pain stopping his heart. Then he sighs, looking down at the bar surface. Damn, he wishes something would kick in already. Maybe there was someone here with a few tabs he could buy... Snickers at his elbow. He turns, frowning. Sees the little dark guy at his side, sneering at him. "What the fuck you want?" It was barely a question. Little guy didn't seem to notice. "On a short leash, ain't ya?" Jay shakes his head. "Fuck off." "Nah, I'm wonderin' now... he just watching his property, or you two pretty boys have a fight?" "Why, you interested?" Again, the almost total lack of inflection. Bob'd be proud, Jay thinks dismally. Finally mastered the art of apathy. "Why, you sellin' something I ain't seen?" Sneer on his face like, you can't impress me, I don't need you, you're just street grease anyway. Street grease. Shit and piss and trash and dirt, and nobody cares when someone wipes it away. Ah, just another whore got beaten. Just another whore got killed. Who cares? "Who cares?" Jay repeats softly. "What?" "That's it," he says, and turns to the man. "Take that back." "Take what back?" "All of it. Walk the fuck away or apologize." "To you?" The contempt rose a couple hundred notches, and Jay nearly smiles at him. "Hopin' you'd say that," he whispers, and launches off the bar stool. He has the man on the ground before anyone realizes he'd moved, and he's straddling him, his lips curled back from his teeth, pounding the man's head against the floor in time to the music. Someone screams, and he hears heavy footsteps on the floor. The man was whimpering, and Jay clenches his legs around the man's waist, turning towards his torso, landing punch after punch after punch, feeling muscle give under his hands, feeling things crunch inside. Yes. Yes. This was it, this was what was missing. He looks up, seeing stars and white light and Bob, pulling him off the man. Bob. Bob and all that dark fire, Bob and all that deep, rich glow. Bob and he's touching him, and he's feeling the touch like electrical sparks against his skin, and he smiles up into his stern, set face. **So-angry man,** he thinks. **Sad Lunchbox. Doesn't know how much I love his ass.** Time stops, or at least slows to a crawl. Jay's lifted, lifted, and his thighs unclench from the man on the floor. Jay's lifted and his legs stretch out, setting themselves down, finding purchase to stand. Jay's lifted and everything that's happened in the past two weeks floods through him, all the pain, all the rage, all the fear. Jay's lifted and he's lifted up, leaving all the rage and pain and fear behind him. Dimly, he hears a memory. **It's called a paradigm shift,** he hears Bob say in his head. Oh. Right. He looks up, and up, and finally he's on his feet, standing next to Bob. Standing next to the man he loves. "Time to go home?" he asks happily. All his muscles run with light, and he looks up again, seeing ice and fire raining from the flashpots over the stage. "More than," Bob says darkly, shoving him roughly out the door. He hails a cab, and they get home in record time. Jay had wanted to hang his head out the window, taste the night sky, but Bob had kept a deathgrip on his collar. *you and me we're in this together now none of them can stop us now we will make it through somehow you and me if the world should break in two until the very end of me until the very end of you* Dark apartment. Only the streaks of silver light that slip through the blinds, running white-fire lines across every gleaming surface. He hears the lock click behind him, and turns. Bob looks angry. Bob had looked angry for a while, he realizes. He feels his heart split open, folding back, feels his ribcage flex, sinuous delicate fragments of bone bending, changing, rearranging. He touches his chest lightly, expecting even such a light touch to paint his hands red, but they were only painted with light. Bob leans closer, peering into his eyes. He shakes his head. "Not even a shred of blue left," he whispers. "Why do I fuckin' bother?" "For this, maybe?" And he presses his glowing flesh to Bob's, sliding his hands up the sides of his face, feeling static electricity discharge into the air as he ruffles through Bob's beard. Mmm. He presses against Bob, sensuously grinding against him, and feels the monster wake up, curving against him. Even half- hard, it felt longer than he'd ever been, and he ached to feel it again, feel it inside. His mouth drips with silver fluid when he turns his lips to Bob's, kissing them open. Bob moans, but shoved him back, holding him tightly by the arms. "Don't tease me," he says hoarsely. "This isn't what you want." "I was wrong," Jay replies. He begins unbuttoning Bob's shirt. He licks the hollow of his neck, licking up the side of his face, blowing in his ear. He hears winds over snow and the crackling of ice underfoot. "We better get inside, where it's warm," he says softly, rubbing the side of his face against Bob's. Bob just shakes his head. And Jay gets pissed. Shit, what the hell did he have to do? Most chicks'd jump at the chance. Most guys, too. Bob had to be a Puritan all of a sudden? *Fuck* that! He hooks a leg behind Bob's, sending him tumbling to the ground, and Bob lands with a grunt, closing his eyes. Jay scrambles on top, pushing down Bob's sweats, pushing down Bob's shorts, and there were too many hands fighting him. Only two of them belong to Bob. At least, he's fairly sure. He fights them all anyway, sliding down his own jeans and shorts, kicking them off when he can, and thrusts his pelvis against Bob's for the first time. Fire ignites in his brain, sensation overload, bliss on tap... Feeling Bob get harder and harder and harder, wanting it all, wanting more... He reaches down, curling his fingers against Bob's ready cock, guiding it back, opening himself with the other hand. And Bob sits up, bucking him off. "No," he says, "no, let's talk about this--" "Fuck you!" Jay screams. "Sick of talking! Sick of workin' it out! Sick of all this fucking shit! You gonna fuck me or not?" Bob blinks at him, all the air leaving his body. But slowly, he shakes his head. "Not." He gets up, walking heavily to his room, the fire nimbus around him dimming slightly. Jay watches him go. When he opens the door, Jay rises, and runs towards him. "The fuck you're not," he snarls, knocking into him from behind and sending them both crashing to the mattress. *awake to the sound as they pull apart the skin they pick and they pull trying to get their fingers in well they've got to kill what we found well they've got to hate what they fear well they've got to make it go away well they've got to make it disappear* "Oof," Bob says, his face pressed into the mattress. Jay looks down, running his hands over the rounded globes of Bob's ass. Ooh, something he'd like to do... He raises a hand, licking the fingers of it, then slid it into the cleft, listening as Bob gasped. His fingers move, one fingertrip tracing the clenched ring he can't see over and over again. Then he slides it in, and Bob shudders beneath him. "Ooh, that's what you want?" "Jay," Bob gasps. "You want me to fuck you? I wanna fuck you. Tell me you want me to fuck you." "Coffee," he whispers. "I don't want fucking coffee!" Jay screams. He forces a finger inside Bob, shoving until it popped inside, and Bob yelps, arching back on the bed. Jay lifts his left hand, sending it out to clasp around Bob's neck, tracing the smooth lines over the voicebox, the sharp pricking of stubble, the soft feeling of Bob's beard moving over his palm. "Help me get you naked," Jay says, licking along Bob's spine. He moves his finger in and out and Bob twitches, moaning. "Jay, you--can't, you--need to--" "Shut the fuck up! I need you. I got you. What else I fuckin' need?" *the farther I fall I'm beside you as lost as I get I will find you the deeper the wound I'm inside you for ever and ever I am a part of* Jay moans now, bucking against Bob's ass, sliding his cock back and forth along the cleft. Bob whimpers, swallowing hard, and then shudders, relaxing. He reaches into the bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube. "Ooh, baby likes!" Jay snickers, snapping the top open and pouring a generous amount onto his cock, hissing when the cold lube hit his flesh. He leans over Bob, parting Bob's cheeks as much as he could, moving to straddle Bob, and angles his cock, thrusting down. The first thrust met with resistance, and Bob gasps again. But then Jay finds the right angle, sliding against the right area. He pushes, hard, earning another whimper from Bob, throwing his head back. "Come on, come on come on come on, you know you want it..." And he pops inside, crying out, unbearable pressure squeezing him on all sides. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck--" *you and me we're in this together now none of them can stop us now we will make it through somehow you and me if the world should break in two until the very end of me until the very end of you* God, it feels good. Bob feels good. Bob feels so good. He thrusts lightly, hearing Bob cry out, and pours some more lube on, thrusting again. Oh, yeah, there it was. Oh, yeah... He closes his eyes, thrusting, thrusting slowly, in and out and in, just reveling in the sensation of pulling in and out of Bob. "Jay..." Bob gasps. "Please..." Jay pulls out, blinking, trying to think things through. Bob's flesh shines like stars, and it makes him dizzy. He strokes a hand through the starlight glitter, and where he touches turns red for a moment, red as rubies, red as blood. He shudders, smiling, and then pushes at Bob. "Turn over, man," he gasps. Bob complies, and Jay repositions himself between Bob's raised legs. "Oh, sweet," he says, gazing into Bob's eyes. "Yeah, like lookin' at you... Like lookin' at you... right... about... *now*--" And Jay thrusts in again, watching Bob's face as he gasps, open- mouthed, breathing hard. He throws his head back, crying out, shuddering and twtiching, and Jay keeps time, thrusting in on every full-body twitch he feels, pulling out so slowly it makes Bob whimper, then thrusting in again, hard and fast. "Jay... oh, God, Jay, yes... so good, feels so good--" "Baby, it's gonna feel better," he murmurs, and leans down, licking across Bob's nipples, leaning up to suck on the side of his neck. One hand grabs Bob's head, bringing it close enough to kiss; the other dives between Bob's thighs and grabs his cock, fisting over it and coating the jerking length with pre-cum, sliding up and down in time with his thrusts. *all that we were is gone we have to hold on all that we were is gone we have to hold on when all our hope is gone we have to hold on all that we were is gone but we can hold on* And suddenly Bob is gasping, twitching, arching off the bed, and Jay feels it too, feels his stomach tightening, his cock seem to thrust forward of its own volition. He cries out a moment before Bob, coming inside him, bucking against his ass, and then Bob comes, screaming, pouring hot fluid over the fist of his hand. Jay, panting, slowly withdraws, earning another whimper from Bob, and collapses next to him. "I know," he pants, "we should clean up an' shit, but I'm tired, man. And you're still glowing." Bob quirks a half-smile at him, but his eyes are still so sad. Twin beams of dark light cutting through the fog, and they're still so sad. "What?" "Nothin'. Maybe we should just sleep." And he cuddles up next to Bob's side, feeling safe. Feeling protected. He laughs a little, shaking his head, just before he falls asleep. What had Bob's problem been... not wanting this? Jay had loved him all along. Why didn't he want to be loved? And that thought sent him into dreaming, dreaming of a Bob with dragonfly wings and a barbed needle, dreaming of kimonos and glass daggers catching the light. But strangely, it was all a comfort now, because Bob was there. Bob was there. In every dream, Bob was there. *you and me we're in this together now none of them can stop us now we will make it through somehow you and me even after everything* Morning sun bright on his face. He squints, wondering why he hadn't shut the goddamned blinds. Shit, it was never this bright until late afternoon, and even then it was never this bright... Shielding his eyes, he opens them, looking towards the door to Bob's room. It wasn't there. A window was, letting in sliced streamers of intense yellow light. Shaking his head, Jay sits up, looking around. Evaluations of his environment clicked down the list in his head. Jay. In Bob's room. In Bob's *bed*. Naked. Next to... he looks over to confirm... *Bob*. Who also appears to be naked. "Motherfuck," he snarls, rising. "Every fucking thing we gone through, and you still don't learn. When the fuck you gonna get that I--" Bob shakes his head. "Tried to tell you," he whispers. "Oh, yeah, I dragged your ass back here and put the moves on. I can *so* see *that* happening." Bob blinks, sitting up wearily. He grabs the pair of sweats by the bed, shoving a leg into them. Uh. "That's what happened?" Jay asks, his voice smaller than before. Bob didn't look over. He just shrugs. "Well, fuck, you could tell I was in an altered state or some shit! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bob shrugs again. And then he stops, shoulders hunching forward, and stares at the far wall. Tears begin to pour down his face soundlessly, and he turns his face away. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Jay sits back down on the bed, jumps up as if burned, then walks over to where Bob sits, trembling. "Bob... hey... I didn't mean... Shit, Bob, you know I'm a fuck-up, please don't cry..." He reaches out, patting at Bob's shoulders, which seems to make the crying fit worse. It was still soundless, which was really unnerving Jay. "Bob... *don't*..." He kneels at Bob's feet. "Don't cry," he says quickly, before he could think. "Don't cry. I'm sorry. I take it back. I take everything back. I don't want you to cry. I'll be better. I'll... I... you can teach me. Tell me... what you want me to do." Bob looks at him, eyes red-rimmed, face blotchy. "Think I know?" "Well, I sure as fuck don't, and you know everything, so why wouldn't you?" Bob buries his face in his hands. Jay twitches on the floor, looking around. "Nuh-uh," he says finally. "I don't care. I'll sleep with you, I'll deal with you, I'll go back on the motherfuckin' game if that's what you want, but I am not fuckin' sayin' I love you. Fuck that shit." Bob looks up, swallowing. "But you do. Don't you?" Jay swallows, feeling his own eyes grow hot and wet. He bites his lip, looking away from the burning intensity of Bob's coffee-brown eyes. Bob doesn't go away. He doesn't go away. Shit. He swallows again, knotting his hands together. When he speaks, his voice is a scratched groove on a record, full of background noise and hardly audible. "...yeah." He waits. For what, he's not sure. The insult. The snickering. The contempt. The blow that would knock him into next week. Nothing came. Finally, he dares to look up. Bob's sitting there, looking at him, obviously trying to smile. "You...ain't gonna kill me?" "Why?" "For... for..." Jay trails off. His mind spins into hyperdrive. **For a shitload of things. For being a street whore. For being a junkie. For hating this enough to try knocking the shit out of you for it. For hating this enough to be a shit to you for the past six years. For hating this enough to try to fuckin' die from it. **Hating you for wanting me. Hating me for wanting you. Hating anyone who dared to want. Hating a lot.** "Hating a lot," Bob repeats, and Jay shudders, realizing he'd said at least that last bit out loud. "Yeah." "Well, stop." Jay just shrugs, until Bob grabs his face, turning it up. He leans in, kissing him softly, and Jay blinks, letting him. It... didn't suck. He pulls back, cocking his head to one side. "You still gonna protect my ass?" Bob nods. "You gonna let me fuck girls?" Bob shrugs. "If that's what you want." "An' if this shit doesn't work out?" Bob shrugs. "Then I'm not back on the street," he says viciously. Sure. Why not? Little fun, little tail, and then back to the slaughterhouse again, in the hopes that-- "No, Jay," Bob says, cutting off the thought in mid-stream. Jay looks up, looks at Bob's set face. **Never**, his expression says fiercely. Huh. "Okay, then." And tentatively, he climbs back in bed. He looks over at Bob once he's there. "So... what now?" Bob shrugs again, but this time, Jay leans into it, settling down. Yeah. He could, maybe, get used to this. He looks up and the possessive loving look in Bob's eyes is all he needs to get hard again. Well. Will you look at that. In love with a fucking guy. "C'mere," he says hoarsely, and Bob comes. *you're the queen and I'm the king nothing else means anything* END ***** Kelandris the Mad poet in search of a soul; yours will do