Title: Fool in Denim
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse (post-Mallrats, but otherwise indeterminate 
in time)
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Status: New
Rating: PG-13 for language at the least
Series/Sequel: Sequels "Fool in Motley".
Disclaimer: Yes, practically everything I write involves characters 
originally created by other people. Those other people will 
hopefully feel flattered. Fans make the world go round.
Warnings: Bob still in tights. Clueless Jay attack.
Notes: The new and very loud 7100 Mac is less new, but more loud. 
The hard drive is really kicking into die mode.
Summary: Jay tries to figure out why Bob could possibly love him, 
since he's straight.


"Fool in Denim"
by Kelandris

*How I do love thee... * 

The phrase rang in Jay's head; no amount of shaking was dislodging 
it. He heard it, as if Silent Bob was speaking it for the first 
time, over and over again. *How I do love thee... * he heard. *How I 
do love thee... * he heard. As if Bob was speaking it directly to him, 
close to him, mouth pressed to his ear. Whispering it.

*How I do love--*

*shutdown*

**No,** he thought, **no.** He couldn't do it. He couldn't think 
it. Bob couldn't love him. Fuck him, he could drop dead for all Jay 
cared--

*zzzzzt*

Wait," Jay said softly. "Hey, Lunchbox, wait the fuck up!" Now he 
was walking quickly, trying to get through the crowd, all seemingly 
standing in the small space under the trees and chatting aimlessly, 
shaking out blankets, trying out dance steps of all fucking things. 
And all the time, the man with the slashes was getting farther and 
farther away.

"Damn it, wait, for God's sake!" Jay ran now, ran to catch up with 
the man who loved him.

*system melt*

Jay shook his head. Fuck him. He loved him, that was his own 
problem. Like Jay even cared for another moron who was in love with 
the long hair and the swivel-hips.

*change state*

But, damn it, Bob was leaving! Bob was walking away! And Jay wanted 
to... wanted to... very *much* wanted to... .

He shook his head again. Huh-uh, fuck *that* idea, go be fuckin' gay 
on your own damn time, he thought. Then he blinked. Wasn't this his 
time? But he wasn't gay!

Was he? He stood, glaring at the trees, at passersby, at the green 
of the grass and the grey-white of clouds scudding across the 
sapphire heavens. He shook his head. Didn't fuckin' matter. He had 
to catch up with Bob, had to talk to him, had to say... had to say... What?

*shzzz-ot!*

"It doesn't *matter*!" he screamed, and startled a passing couple. 
They stared at him with wide eyes, and he growled, pushing past them 
and breaking into a run. He ran, hair streaming behind him, until he 
caught up with Bob, and came alongside, spinning him around.

"Bob, hey, we need to--" Jay broke off. He gulped.

Silent Bob looked at the hand on his arm. He looked at Jay. He 
raised one eyebrow. Jay dropped his arm.

"Um, it's just that... that last, um, poem..." He couldn't look up. This 
was fucked. What was he trying to say? What *could* he say? He 
wasn't... Bob wasn't...

*zzzzzt*

Nothing. Nothing, that's all.

"Was that Shakespeare?" he asked, his voice high-pitched.

Bob stared at him. He nodded.

"Okay, then." He stood, looking around, twitching, until Bob put a 
hand out, touching his arm. Jay gasped. Bob pulled his hand back, 
looking at him. The silence was uncomfortable for a long moment, and 
then Bob stepped back.

"You were listening."

The voice he heard so rarely, the soft, oddly young voice poured into 
Jay's ears again. Fuck, but Bob had a great voice. For someone who 
never spoke, it was even more incredible. Whatever he was doing, he 
made it sound intimate, too, like all he cared about was talking just 
to... to... well, who-fuckin'-ever. 

Readin' poetry, talkin' to whatever slut of the week it was this 
time, talking to his sister on the phone, it was all good. 
Everything he did. Everything he said. When he said anything.

(Gasping, in the room next to his, Bob's large hand wrapped around 
Bob's large--)

*shutdown*

"I was--what? No, I wasn't, I--I didn't--it wasn't like I--I mean--
" Jay broke off, feeling flustered and flushed again. Fuck. This 
was *so* not what he wanted to say, noodge.

"Fuck you!" he screamed hysterically. "Like I asked you to fall in 
love with me!"

And suddenly he was massively resentful. Any other man would've had 
the decency to get upset, clock him one, knock him out for a while so 
his brain could reset and get back to where it needed to be. No 
changes, that wasn't that much to ask. Accuse a guy of bein' gay, 
get a brief rest, everything goes back to normal. Was that so much to 
fuckin' ask?

But no. *Oh*, no, not *Bob*. No, *Bob* had to be all self-assured 
and crap. Bob just looked around, all unconcerned, then looked back 
at Jay. He opened his mouth.

**Don't let him say it, don't, don't let him, don't let him... I wanna 
die, I wanna die, I want things back the way they were--**

"What makes you think," Bob said softly, "that I'm the only one in 
love?"

**Shit. He said it.**

The sun beat down on both of them, and Jay glared angrily at the man 
in the slashed doublet. He resented how his dark hair poured over 
his shoulders. He resented how elegantly Bob took the cap in his 
hand and placed it on his head, tilting it to one side so it shaded 
his eyes slightly from the sun. He resented the hell out of how 
*good* Bob fuckin' looked in *tights*, of all fuckin' things... Oh, 
*shit*, what now?

Bob, a mysterious smile on his round face, bent forward, bowing 
towards Jay. He swept his cap off his head, then set it back on 
again as he rose, tilting it that same precise angle.

"Like what you see?" Bob asked softly.

**Liked it better when I walked in on you in the bathroom that one 
time, and the water was glistening on your belly, and you were just 
turning towards the door and I saw--**

*change state*

Fuck that. Fuck that, fuck that. Man, who was it said that first? 
He thought Bob had said it once, quoting somebody or other. "The 
mind is a monkey", Bob'd said. Yeah. Didn't he fucking know it. 
His brain would not behave. No matter what he did. No matter what 
he thought about. Like the time he was hiding from LaFours on the 
roof of the mall, and one of Bob's weird inventions had got them 
there, and he was just recovering from the feel of holding Bob, 
holding all of Bob, and kissing him--

*shutdown*

"I never said--I never--*fuck* you, man, *you* go be gay!" Like Jay 
didn't have enough to fucking deal with, dealers crowdin' in on their 
turf, the hard stuff comin' to Leonardo at last, just about all over 
Red Bank, and forget Highlands... and still there were idiots comin' out 
of the walls to hassle him, his hair, his bod, his lips... Callin' him a 
fuckin' girl, and worse, and all he needed on top of all of *that* 
shit was a *God* *damned* *gay* *boyfriend*...

"Not without you," Bob whispered.

*shzzzt*

He hadn't thought that. No, he hadn't, of course he hadn't. `Cos 
the only way Bob could be his boyfriend was if he was fuckin' gay, 
and the last thing he was was... was...

"Fuck!" he screamed again, rubbing at his eyes, and then the penny 
dropped. What Bob had said. What *Bob* had said, to *him*, to 
*Jay*, and now, fuck, Bob was walking away again, and Jay couldn't 
move, Jay couldn't move, he was trapped by the endless thoughts 
circling in his head and, and, and...

**Fuck,** said that small little voice inside him. **I don't wanna 
be gay.**

**No,* came the sarcastic reply. **Not without Bob, you don't.**

*shzzzzt!*
*shutdown*

"Lady Marion!" he heard distantly. "The fair boy has collapsed! Go 
fetch the chiurgeon!"

And finally, his mind could rest for a bit, and when he woke up, it 
would all be okay. All okay. Yeah, he could believe that.

His last thought was wondering where all the snickering was coming 
from, and then it was all soothing, blissful dark.

END
*****
Kelandris the Mad
we know pleasure is not that simple