Title: Mistletoe
Author: Kelandris the Mad
RATING: Nearly G, but PG-13 for the drug mentions and the kissing
Pairing: Jay/Bob
Fandom: View Askewniverse, general
Disclaimer. The usual--Kevin Smith is godlike in his ability to ignore
the insignificant. Or maybe it's just that we keep insisting that he's
hung like a horse.
Note: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar Challenge situated at: 
http://www.kardasi.com/Advent (challenge has expired, may need
password to get into site)
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Warnings: Language, of course. Jay uses bad words. Plus this is a
kissing story. Giggling, brief m/m interaction, mention of drugs, the
usual.
Author's notes: This was inspired by the cover of the first holiday
issue of the Clerks comic.  And though it's previously been published,
it hasn't been published here.  Hee.
Warnings:  Not that much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mistletoe"
by Kelandris


The giggling rose in volume, and Jay had just about fucking had it.

"What the hell you laughin' at?" He scowled, crossing his arms across
his chest so tightly that he nearly crushed a Romulan warbird dangling
from a bicep. He stood by the big tree, decorated tip to trunk in
joints, cloves, 'shrooms and little airport bottles of alcohol. God
help them all if the cops busted the house.

Kina didn't seem too worried, though. She circulated merrily, wearing
a little flip-skirt in red with white trim, and not much else, pulling
on a longneck Dos Equis and smiling wickedly at her guests. She'd
asked everyone to dress up for the holiday bash. And she was the one
who'd started giggling at Jay.

Silent Bob, true to his name, said nothing. He stood to one side,
large and resplendent in black, dark red and white--the red and white
of the Santa suit underneath his trademark black trench. The Santa
beard was pushed down off his outfit so he wouldn't light it on fire.
He thought for a moment, looking around, and then looked back at Jay.

All right, for Jay the outfit was a little off his norm. This was a
kid who generally liked to drown in layers upon layers, never
revealing anything beyond his knees and his hands. Now he stood by the
tree with big Vulcan points pasted over his ears, wrapped in Christmas
lights, dressed in a torn mesh T, black denim cut-offs, and torn black
fishnets. Here and there he'd had Bob attach ornaments--the warbird,
which at this point had a broken nacelle, the Enterprise in three
incarnations, little figures of Spock and Kirk and Odo.

He'd even tied tinsel into the mesh at his shoulders. It was kind of
stunning in its own way. And he was wearing fishnets. Bob turned away,
scanning the room for something else to do. Because even torn, they
clung to his calves, outlining them, creating some odd impulses that
Bob didn't want, just yet, to think through.

He looked around again. Nope. Room still laughing. He dared a look
back. Jay's hands were now fisting at his sides.

"You fuckers better tell me what the fuck is goin' on--"

And then Bob got it. Oh, dear God--he *could not* laugh, Jay would
kill him. But he couldn't pull him away, either. He looked up at the
ball of dried mistletoe, decorated with festive ribbon. It hung
directly over Jay's head.

Shit.

He took his last puff of the cigarette, exhaling through the side of
his mouth, and sighed. Loudly. Audibly. Stubbing the cig out in the
nearest ashtray, he shook his head, shoving his hands in the pockets
of the trench. Little blond troublemaker, and now how the hell was he
going to get him out of *this* mess...

He froze. An idea had crossed his brain, and left rapidly, chased by
screaming neurons that flung themselves after it, regardless of their
own safety. No. No. *Can't* do that. Jay would fucking *kill* him, and
he *knew* the boy could, he'd seen him fight--

But. Bob looked up. Mistletoe.

Hmm. He *might*, just *might*, be able to pull this off. Under the
pretext. Point it out to Jay and all.

Maybe he'd have to duck a little, first...

Tossing his head, squaring his shoulders, he ambled over to where Jay
stood, trembling with his rage. He moved with an utter calm assurance
that was completely faked. Finally, he stood in front of Jay, shaking
his head.

"*What*, tons-o-fun, I *ain't* in the mood for guessin' games--"

And Bob pulled his hands from his pockets, placed them on either side
of Jay's lean face, pulled him close and kissed him.

Just for a moment, Jay was stiff and unyielding in his arms. Then he
yelped, and twitched, his hips bucking against Bob's just long enough
for him to evaluate that his interest might be returned. Bob kissed
him long enough to make the point, not long enough to make the party
laugh harder, and then stepped back.

"Motherfuck..." Jay breathed. He looked--unhinged, now, as if all his
strings had been cut and he was dangling in place, off-kilter, with no
visible means of support left. "What the...?"

Bob pointed up, waiting until Jay's stunned face rotated, peering at
the ceiling. He blinked for a few moments, looking at the mistletoe
ball, teal eyes wide and bright as stars.

Then he blinked, straightening, and Bob sighed, the corners of his
mouth twitching. Crisis averted. Wonderful. He tapped out another cig
from the pack, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter,
falling back into the crowd as Jay stretched out his arms.

"Lay-*dees*! Your Jay has *arrived*, baby girls, we are ready and
*open* for business!" He waggled his hips suggestively, humping the
air. "Who's up for a little deep Jay action?"

As usual, the girls in the party were split. The older ones, including
Kina, made disgusted sounds nearly in unison, and turned and walked
away, while the younger set giggled and cooed and approached Jay from
all sides.

Bob leaned against a wall, watching his roommate drown in scented
flesh. Let him have his fun now. Oh, were they going to have a talk
when they got home.

Or...maybe not. Preserve the air of mystery a little longer. Maybe
they'd just have another kiss.

Silent Bob laughed under his breath and went to the kitchen for a beer.

END
*****************
Kelandris the Mad
who's up for eggnog, then?