Title: Hammer Thrown
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Bob (sort of)
Rating: Songfic. PJ Harvey songfic. Heavy on the violence and the 
hallucinations. R at least.
Status: New
Archive: The traditional places. If you don't know what the 
traditional places are, you might want to write and ask. And here's 
how:
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: Yet another one-shot that I'm hoping stays a 
singlet. But YNK. (Though, reviewing below, apparently this is a 
sequel-set to "Trophy Boy".)
Disclaimers: Kevin Smith, View Askew Productions, Jason Mewes, Scott 
Mosier, and Miramax have creative control and ownership of Jay and 
Silent Bob. I am just an insignificant slasher who wants the boys to 
have fun now that they've retired. I'm not even charging them.
Notes: I have no idea how the title pairs with the song. I have no 
idea how the song spawned this horrible bit of weirdness. But I just 
finished "Trophy Boy", which featured a night where Jay was in the 
psych ward. This is that night. So I guess, obscurely, this is a 
concurrent-sequel to "Trophy Boy". Oh, how marvelous.
Summary: Jay has fun bouncing off padded walls. This is, of course, 
the definition of fun most people don't survive.
Warnings: MANY. BAD evil fic. Taken from a wickedly evil song. 
References to rape, drugs, inappropriate staff behavior, bondage (so 
to speak). Blood play, sharp things, general insanity.

"Hammer Thrown"
by Kelandris


"Hey," he heard the man whisper. "Open your mouth. I wanna show you 
somethin'."

*Oh you're divine
Oh you're divine
Oh Oh Oh did I tell you you're divine
Oh Oh Oh Oh did I ever when you were alive*

And now the monsters were closing in. He remembered the man with the 
knife. He remembered the man with the box of wonders, that kept 
opening to produce new candy-colored oddities that he obligingly 
swallowed. It was the one thing that night he did willingly, in the 
hopes that one of those little candy-colored pills would hit the off 
switch, and he'd be gone for the rest of the match. Because no one 
was ringing the bell, and his head was getting awfully heavy.

But now he was splayed on the thin mattress, his hands tied to the 
iron, and he couldn't get away. And the man with the knife had come 
back, slipped through the grating and was standing, smiling, hand on 
his thigh and rising.

*Did it hurt when you bled?
Did it, oh lover boy, oh fever head?*

He remembered. He remembered everything. He kept waiting to stop, 
kept waiting to lose what consciousness he possessed. Listening to 
his mom scream was not his idea of fun. On the other hand, if the 
bitch hadn't suggested it in the first place, none of them would be 
there.

Such games. Such fun games, the man and the knife. And he watched 
as the man leaned in, slicing him open in narrow scrapes, sliding his 
cock across the blood, savoring his whimpers.

"More?" the man with the knife asked. He flipped open the box of 
wonders, selecting a creamy teal pill, shaped like a shield. He put 
it into Jay's mouth, and waited until he swallowed. Then he moved 
closer, placing something larger in Jay's mouth, and began 
mechanically pumping in and out.

*I'll bet you never thought I'd try
Your mouth, my love, was open wide*

He remembered. He remembered coming to the hospital, the place he 
dreaded. He remembered watching them take his mom away, knowing she 
was going straight to detox, once they tested her. And then the 
hospital people came for him, and it was just the one last thing he 
couldn't handle. The minute one of them touched him, smell of 
antiseptic and fear heavy on the white air, he freaked.

Wailing, flailing, he struck out at the nurses who surrounded him, 
calling orderlies to help out, and it took six people to finally put 
him out of commission. He spent the rest of the night tied down to 
one thing or another--a rolling gurney, a transport cart, a bed in 
the lockdown ward. Something. His hands were no longer his own.

*Singing oh you were going to be my life
Dammit!*

"Do you see?" the man whispered. He rotated the knife blade before 
Jay's eyes, bringing it down and nicking the skin over his 
cheekbone. He couldn't help it; he flinched. The man laughed, and 
had his friends help to turn him over. And then the burning, and the 
laughter, and the screaming that went on and on.

That was the second time he fought them, fought them with no 
intention of stopping. He knew they broke something, didn't know 
what, didn't care, but he was going to get out of this somehow. He 
was going to get out of this before--

And someone struck him, hard enough for painstars to race across his 
vision, hard enough that his sweat turned to blood.

"Mmm," the man with the knife said. "And you said this wouldn't be 
any fun..."

*Oh Oh Oh Oh you were going to be my life*

And now the shadows were calling his name. Shadows that looked like 
his father, and the man with the knife, and a thousand different 
idiots who'd hit him, or shoved him, or raped him. A thousand 
different cocks in his mouth, a thousand different ways to suffer. 
No way out. No way out. No way out.

But one. The door was opening. Something familiar was coming 
through. Someone familiar. Jay peered into the light, fighting to 
resolve the form into something human. Something other than the man 
with the knife, and the head full of inventive ideas on how to use it.

"Hey," Jay croaked. He thought he knew now. Stocky figure, shorter 
than him, dark hair, dark beard. Hey. He knew this one. Shit, he 
knew this one.

"Just seein' how you're doin'," the man said.

*Did you sing "Oh happy day"?
Singing it
Sing it that time I went away?*

"Doin' fine, now you're here," Jay gasped. He strained in his bonds, 
straining towards the man. He picked out details here and there--
long black trench, shoes that had definitely seen better days, low 
and filthy and sprung. Thick fingers he remembered, warm dark eyes.

Bob, he thought, struggling to get free of the chains. Bob Bob Bob 
Bob Bob. Damn it. Why were his hands always tied?

"Hey," Bob said. "You gotta relax. You'll be out by morning."

"Wanna touch you," Jay whispered.

"What?"

"Please..." He pulled, hurting his wrists, hurting his arms, and the 
man walked over, touching him for the first time. Yes. This was 
good. This would keep the man with the knife away.

"Shit..." The man looked out into the corridor, then walked over, 
shutting the door.

"I can't release you," he whispered. "You hurt some people. You 
have to stay tied up for the night."

"Then touch me," Jay moaned, arching towards Bob, throwing his head 
back, thrusting his hips forward.

He watched as Bob bit his lip, looking at his straining form.

*Got to ease my aching head
Do you know
No other way cut off your legs oh
Hey oh*

"Shit," he said again, despairingly. One hand crept up the steel 
frame over the mattress, touching the thin white cotton pants Jay 
wore. His hip, his leg, his thigh, gentle crab-stepping fingers, 
stepping towards--

Jay moaned, smiling. Oh, yeah. Bob. Bob's fingers on him. Hard 
even through the cotton, hard at a single touch from Bob.

Now the hand was sliding underneath the waistband, sliding underneath 
his shorts, touching him, flesh on flesh, live and in person, 
fingers, Bob's fingers, around his cock. The man stroked him 
hesitantly, then, when Jay began to buck against him, he worked his 
cock in earnest, gripping it, squeezing it, running his fingers up 
and down the shaft.

"Oh fuck," Jay gasped. "Good, good, Bob, so fuckin' good... More, more, 
please more, please, now, more--"

He felt fingers in the dark fumbling at his drawstring, and then the 
pants were being loosened, being pulled down. The chill bite of cold 
air hit him, and he shivered, but only for a moment. Soon, warm wet 
heat engulfed him, and he cried out. The mouth was removed, and he 
cried out again, as the cold air swirled around his dick.

"Shh," the man said urgently. "You wanna get me fired?"

"Gonna get loud, Bob. Feelin' you, feelin' you taste me, feelin' you 
suck me--I'm gonna get loud. I fuckin' know it."

"Shit!"

Jay heard the rustle of clothes, heard the man shuck down his pants, 
and then suddenly, the man was straddling him, sucking him in again. 
And, oh, fucking shit, here it was--Bob's very own cock tapping his 
lips. He opened wide, swallowing Bob whole, hearing the man whimper.

*Did you ever wish me dead
Oh lover boy, oh fever head?*

Scattered visions raced through him: the first time he'd ever touched 
Bob--just touched him, not fucked him, shit, they were kids after all-
-behind the Quick Stop by the trees. Someone at school had called 
him a fag, and he'd brushed it off, until Bob had asked what a fag 
was. And then, he'd gone to the Quick Stop on the way home, and 
bought Bob a chocolate bar, and tried to explain.

"Other men kiss you?" Bob had asked.

"Naw, naw, guys kiss other guys--that's what bein' a fag is," Jay 
said patiently.

"How does it feel?"

"Like I fuckin' know!"

And then, Jay had peered around through leaf cover, making sure they 
were alone, and stepped closer. Leaning in, he kissed Bob. No 
tongue, nothing crazy, just touched his lips to Bob's lips, lightly. 
An' he must have been sickening for something, `cause his legs had 
wanted to fold right up and dump him on the ground. Unable to think 
clearly for a moment, he grinned loopily and looked down at the 
smaller kid.

"So now you know. How does it feel?"

And Bob had stared up at him, stunned into speechlessness.

Other visions crowded in after that, Jay still busily rolling his 
tongue over and around the other man's cock. He remembered how he'd 
met Boo in New York--he'd turned, and there he'd seen someone he 
could've sworn was Bob's younger fucking brother. Fucking being an 
appropriate word, `cause he was bent over in a back alley, braced 
against the wall, moaning his heart out for some trucker, nailing him 
from behind.

Jay had thought it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, and 
immediately saw himself in the trucker's place, nailing Bob. Nailing 
Bob to the fucking *wall*, yeah... And when they were finished, and the 
boy had cleaned up some, Jay had sauntered down the alley, offering 
to buy a round of drinks. Shit, Boo'd thought he was another john, 
and had vamped him for a good hour, before someone else came by who 
knew them both. They'd laughed over that for half the night. And it 
didn't matter in the end--Jay'd taken him back to his place, and 
nailed him to his mattress while Boo screamed his name.

Oh, yeah. Good shit. Really good shit. And now he had Bob.

*No you must, no you must not go away
How will you ever walk again?*

Mm, and Bob was getting as close as dawn was; over Bob's meaty thigh 
he could see the sky just barely lightening. He sucked Bob hard, 
listening to him whimper, feeling him shudder, and feeling the lovely 
reciprocation of another mouth on him.

Suddenly the man bucked against his lips, and shot into his mouth, 
Jay swallowing all he could. Before the other man could move, Jay 
moaned, bucking up and shooting load after load between Bob's sweet 
lips.

"Fuck," he gasped, as the other man pulled out of his mouth. He lay 
there, blinking, as the man pulled up his pants, pulled up Jay's, 
restoring things to factory standards.

"Yeah, somethin' like that," the man gasped, and Jay didn't recognize 
the voice. Startled, he looked up, into a face that had dark hair, 
and a dark beard, but was the color of creamy milk chocolate. His 
eyes flicked to the name tag the orderly was wearing in 
protest. `Darien', it read. There was no trench in sight.

"You fucker," Jay whispered. His eyes hurt, they were so wide open.

"Hey," the man said, not meeting his eyes. "You were gonna hate me 
anyway. I was the one who tied you up."

And he opened the door, leaving just as three other orderlies came 
in, looking him over.

*And I, I might as well be dead
But I could kill you instead...*

Shit. He watched through narrow, slitted eyes as an orderly 
unbuckled him, another lifted him up, checking his eyes with a 
penlight. The third handed him his clothes and all three escorted 
him to the wait station, and pointed him towards a seat. He waited 
until they were gone, and then scrambled up, diving for the emergency 
doors. As soon as he could, he ducked into an alley, shucking off 
the pale hospital gear for his own.

Jay strolled to the end of the alley, peering around. Fuckin' 
hospitals. He hated them all. Now for bigger reasons than before.

It had convinced him of one thing, though. Turning towards the mall, 
he fumbled in his pocket for change. Ah. Bus fare. Killer. He 
found the nearest stop, and leaned against the pole, wishing for a 
cigarette in the worst way.

The thing he knew now was, he had to find Bob. Figure out if it was 
real, what he felt, what he thought he felt...or if it was something 
else trapped in his fuckin' head. He had to know.

And that was enough to keep him goin', `til the next time.

END
(Song is "Legs" by PJ Harvey)
*****
Kelandris the Mad
DJ in my head on overdrive, got to calm him down