Title: Midsummer's Night
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse?
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: PG for language. Oh, so fluffy fic.
Status: New
Archive: wherever you want, full permission, just lemme know about 
it. No, I don't believe grabbing it from the list requires a note. :>
E-mail address for feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequel: Independent. I hope there won't be a sequel!
Disclaimers: All characters belong to Kevin Smith and the View 
Askewniverse, or to me. If I really get into this, I probably will 
too. Or at least go into hock when I walk into a video store, go 
into rut, and buy all the DVDs at once.
Notes: I have no idea where I get these ideas. This is seriously 
weird even for me. And I wanted to put Jay in the dress, darn it.
Summary: Jay and Bob are in a show!
Warnings: Language. Some kissing.

"Midsummer's Night"
by Kelandris


A tall man, somewhat resembling a certain fallen angel named 
Bartleby, walks out on stage. He wears a red and black slashed 
doublet, a cream lace ruff, parti-colored hose and a wry expression. 
Silent, he slides a large card onto a waiting easel. The card says:

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

He waits a beat, then slides another large card over the first. This 
card says:

ENTER DEMETRIUS, HELENA FOLLOWING HIM

He grins at the crowd, bows precisely, and exits STAGE RIGHT.

Immediately after he leaves, a thin man with long, blond hair caught 
up in a long, braided queue walks on stage. He's wearing a black and 
grey striped doublet, dark hose, and a confused expression. He looks 
off-stage. Applause breaks out in the audience, and he stares 
forward, eyes round in shock. Whistles and cheers start up, and he 
takes a step back.

Then he looks down. The audience can see him visibly gulp, and 
laughs uproariously. Gulping again, he makes for STAGE LEFT, only to 
be confronted with someone else approaching the stage.

This individual is heavyset, and wears a long dress of embroidered 
lawn, with a bodice of burgundy velvet and cream lace cuffs. The 
shoulder-length dark hair is curled back from the forehead, and hangs 
in loosely twisted pleats over the shoulders. The lips are painted 
red, the face wears a panicked expression, and the head is violently 
shaking no. Hands push him forcefully on stage, and he steps forward 
several paces, shaking.

The blond looks at the man in the dress, then looks around at the 
audience.

"Dude, this is fucked!" he says loudly. Bob glares at Jay, daring 
him to say anything. Jay waves his hands.

"Dude, this was so not me, I swear to God." He looks down at himself 
again, indicating his own outfit. Then he looks out at the crowd.

"What the hell is this? Where the hell are we? What the hell is 
going on?"

The extremely familiar man appears again, shrugs to the waiting 
crowd, and hands Jay a sheet of paper, smiling. He turns to Bob, 
repeats the gesture. Then he walks offstage again.

Jay looks down, begins to slowly read.

I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.

He looks up. "You gotta be kidding me." The audience applauds 
helpfully.

Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood;
And here am I, and wode within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.

Jay looks at Bob, trying to inch offstage. One hand comes out from 
behind the curtains, waves a finger warningly--"tsk, tsk, tsk". Bob 
sighs, looking at the paper in his hand.

You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw,
And I shall have no power to follow you.

In his mouth, the words become less compulsion and more honest plea. 
Jay slides a sidelong look his way, scratches his leg, and looks down 
at the paper again.

Do I entice you? do I speak you fair?
Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you?

"Fuck this," Jay says, crumpling up the paper. He throws it at the 
crowd. The crowd screams its delight. The man in the red and black 
doublet appears again, hands Jay a fresh sheet, and leaves.

Bob sighs, reading the next lines.

And even for that do I love you the more.
I am your spaniel;

Bob looks offstage. " `I am your spaniel'?" he says in an offended 
voice. Hands appear, making shooing motions. **Go on, read it,** 
they seem to say. He sighs again, shaking his head.

I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me, only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.

Bob looked up, stared at the audience for a long moment. When he 
continued, he sounded less offended, and more shaken.

What worser place can I beg in your love,--
And yet a place of high respect with me,--
Than to be used as you use your dog?

Jay looks distinctly uncomfortable now. He stares at the paper, as 
if he wants to crumple this one up and throw it, too, but he stops 
himself. Quietly, he reads the last line to his black embroidered 
shoes, and drops the paper to flutter to the hard wood of the stage.

Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;
For I am sick when I do look on thee.

Bob looks over, staring directly at Jay. "And I am sick when I look 
not on you," he says softly, and the crowd goes wild. He hadn't 
looked down at his last line, and now tosses the paper over his 
shoulder. He takes a step forward, the train of the dress dragging, 
looking up at Jay's still face. He reaches up a lace-covered hand, 
nearly touching the other man's cheek, before he remembers the 
audience. The hand drops to whack Jay's arm instead. They both 
turn, bowing, before Bob remembers something else. Grimacing, he 
curtseys unsteadily, then they both leave the stage to thunderous 
applause.

Walking backstage, they confront a satisfied Kel at the soundboard. 
Her burgundy hair is in braids, and she's wrapped in a blue shawl, 
sipping herbal tea. Bob shakes his head warningly.

"What?" she says. "It was cute."

"Fuck cute. You think we don't have our own ideas?" He grabs Bob, 
pulls him close, kisses him thoroughly until the other man is 
breathing heavily. "Oh yeah," he says, "we got plenty of our own 
ideas. We don't need you helping with�what the fuck *is* this?"

"Doublet and hose." She looks mystified.

"And what the fuck is with Bob in a dress?"

"Shakespeare couldn't cast women in his plays, it wasn't allowed. So 
men played all the female parts. I could have put you in the dress," 
she offers helpfully.

"I oughta pop you one, bitch, for even *thinking* that!" He looks 
over at Bob's dreamy expression, and sighs in total 
exasperation. "Man, now *this* fat bitch is gonna be gone for days, 
thinking of me in a goddamn dress. Thank you *very* much!"

She shrugs, trying to look repentant and failing. "Well, hey, 
there's the costume shop," she says, gesturing with the mug. "Go and 
change. I'm not stopping you."

"'Bout damn time you said that," Jay mutters, and walks off. He 
stops, turning towards Bob. "Hey, you think...?" He leans forward, 
whispering in Bob's ear, and Bob turns an immediate brick red. They 
move quickly for the costume shop.

Kel starts to laugh, chokes it off when she hears Jay.

"Bitch, you laugh, I swear to God I will sit in your room tonight in 
that Girl Scout uniform and pelt you with cookies, all fucking night 
long!"

"Okay, I give, I give!" she yells, and picks up her mug of tea. 
Humming happily, she leaves the stage, flicking off all the power--
save the costume shop. She leaves the keys hanging by the door, sure 
in the fact that, whenever they surface, her boys will lock up.

"All the world's a stage," she said softly, "and all the men and 
women merely players..."

END
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