Title: Poppies Poppies Poppies!
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, general
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: PG for language, NC-17 for sex, unrated for art house 
weirdness. Fluff, smarm and smut.
Status: New
Archive: You must send an email to me and let me know where you 
intend to archive. Private archiving allowed as long as you 
don't intend to publish. Behave.
Email address for feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequel: Gad, if we're all lucky, this will never, EVER be 
sequeled!
Disclaimers: All characters belong to Kevin Smith and the View 
Askewniverse. 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 shoulda kept my mouth shut. But I partially blame Dead 
Grrl as well. :>
Summary: Jay and Bob go to Oz. No, really.
Warnings: Some for language. Tons for explicit m/m sex. Costume 
fu. Cock fu. Poppy fu. Joe Bob Briggs would fall out of his chair 
laughing before he had the chance to give it two thumbs up.

"Poppies Poppies Poppies!"
by Kelandris the Mad


The credits rolled in the dark theatre. Silent Bob sat, trademark 
leather trench wrapped around his legs, arm oh-so-casually thrown 
around Jay's moving shoulders. Every time an actor came on the blond 
liked, he hunched forward, making some comment. For the most part 
Silent Bob ignored this, simply watching the names scroll by, names 
he'd seen only a few times before. "Kevin Smith" playing Silent Bob--
yeah, right. Writing the damn film too, and directing it, if you can 
believe that. Jay was someone named "Jason Mewes"--well, at least 
they got the Jay part right. Bob rose towards the end of the 
credits, indicating with a head toss they should leave. Jay sighed, 
but scrunched his cap on tighter, and strolled towards the back exit 
behind Bob.

"Dog-fucking-ma, I love that movie. Hey, you think this new bitch'll 
build us a mall?" He walked suggestively towards Bob, rolling his 
hips against the expanse of black leather. The bearded man stopped 
breathing for a moment, eyes wide.

"Maybe if we give her a little somethin' extra�I heard this chick 
once took an icicle and�" As Jay opened the door, and walked from 
blue-lit darkness into brilliant white, his voice trailed off. 
Silent Bob could be seen following, shaking his head, his jaw hung 
open. And then�*transition*.

A brilliant blue sky arched overhead, and in the distance could be 
seen a road of glittering, golden paving stones. Between the road 
winding in sinuous curves and the arching emerald spires of a city 
made seemingly of glass, grew a wide field of red opium poppies, that 
stretched from one end of the horizon to the other.

A tall figure stood on the road, staring towards the patch of intense 
red. Long blond braids hung down from under a black knit cap, 
embroidered with the word "SNOOGANS". The figure wore a crisp, 
starched white blouse, with princess sleeves and a picot lace collar, 
underneath a blue and white gingham-checked jumper. Long white hose 
over longer, muscled legs led to gleaming red pumps, shining with 
their own ruby light.

Jay--for it was our Jay in this odd outfit--was cursing loudly, 
causing some of the nearer flowers to wilt. A buff-furred finger 
tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to whirl in place. Jay's 
mouth fell open, struck dumb for once by the sight of the man behind 
him.

Silent Bob, looking angry, miserable and humiliated, wore a backwards 
cap perched unsteadily over one twitching lion's ear, the rest of the 
mane of gold and brown strands intermingling hanging forlornly down. 
The muzzle--in fact, the whole of the face--was a buff-tan color, and 
Bob's flashing brown eyes could have melted the city in the distance, 
had he been close enough. He gestured angrily at himself--baggy brown 
furred pants leading to big fuzzy lion feet, a wired tail curving 
behind him, swaying when he moved, and big heavy shoulder-pads 
filling out the rest of the costume. He opened his mouth, stared 
around, looked up at the arching sky, and looked back at Jay.

Jay raised his hands placatingly. "Dude, this was *so* not my idea!" 
He stepped back when Bob moved forward a pace, growling 
instinctively. Then he took off running, the gingham skirt flipping 
up to reveal a pair of white cotton underwear, with a delicate band 
of pink lace along the legs, and Bob sprang after him, both running 
into the wide field of scarlet across the road.

A few feet in, both men began to stumble. Between one breath and the 
next, both Jay and Silent Bob were yawning. Bob swayed on his feet, 
still glaring at Jay, but it seemed more dazed now than angry. Jay 
blinked hugely, falling on one knee, catching himself before he 
toppled completely into the flowers on which he knelt.

"Lunchbox, I seen this film," he said in a hushed voice. "We gotta 
get outta here, or we're gonna be sleeping until Mr. Fashionable Male 
gets out of the pen!"

Bob's eyes grew wide, and he twirled the end of his tail between his 
hands worriedly, until he realized he was doing it and dropped it 
with a snarl. Just then Jay and Bob heard ethereal music, kind of a 
floaty, repeating theme, and puffy white flakes fell out of the sky. 
First one or two, then the temperature dropped by a scant few 
degrees, and the flakes grew thicker, soon obscuring most of the 
vibrant poppy-red in the field.

"Huh," Jay said, looking around. He blinked, standing up. "Now all 
we gotta fucking worry about is frostbite?"

Bob glared accusingly at the sky, then patted himself, finally 
finding the zipper on the back and inching it down. In frustration 
at not being able to do more, he turned, gesturing to the zipper in 
the back of the lion suit.

"Oh yeah, my man Bob, strippin' outta fur�" Jay snickered when Bob 
glared at him, helping him push the suit off in an untidy furred 
jumble at his feet. Silent Bob kicked off the big clawed slippers, 
and looked down. He was wearing a black tee that had obviously seen 
better days, and a pair of black cut-off sweats, and tennis shoes. 
Pretty much standard attire. He nodded, then looked around.

"Trench?" he said plaintively at the sky.

A fluttering of batlike black grew larger, until it resolved itself 
into a black leather trench that fell neatly into Bob's arms. The 
bearded man smiled, putting it on, then patted the pocket, a confused 
look on his face. Inside one of the pockets was his usual pack of 
smokes and a lighter. Inside the other was a packet of moist 
towelettes. He looked at them in confusion for a moment, then 
smiled, and ripped two open hurriedly to scrape the gunky tan goo off 
his face, prying off the muzzle at the same time. At the end of it, 
he held an empty packet of wadded up brown papers, and his face was 
slightly red, but clean. Jay nodded approvingly, unbuttoning one 
strap in preparation to strip himself.

Bob stepped in, looking thoughtful and shaking his head. He slid a 
hand under the skirt, sliding it up over the white cotton panties to 
the bare belly above. Jay looked at him, cocking his head.

"What, you have this secret fetish for schoolgirls, Lunchbox? What 
the hell is your problem?"

Bob sighed, indicating his outfit, and kicking at the lion's costume 
at his feet. Then he lifted one of Jay's braids, pointedly looking 
at it, and pulled the front of the blouse far enough away so that Jay 
could peer inside. He rolled his eyes but finally did.

"Man, if you're waiting for tits, fat ass, it's gonna be a long 
fucking time coming. We're gonna have to make do with yours, I'm 
afraid--"

He broke off, comprehension struggling to dawn.

"Fuck," he whispered. `You mean I gotta *stay* in this shit??"

Bob nodded.

"You are fucking *kidding* me!!"

Bob shook his head. Then he smiled, looking at Jay closely for the 
first time. He stepped closer, wrapping Jay in an embrace, kissing 
him until the younger man was gasping. His hand lifted the skirt 
again, diving under the lacy rim of the underwear and the wide top 
band of the white hose to wrap his fingers around Jay's swelling 
cock. The blond moaned into his mouth, sending little frantic 
thrusts against his hand and arm.

"Fuck, Bob, don't tease, don't tease me, not now, not here," he 
muttered, licking the sweetish alcohol residue that coated Bob's 
beard and skin. Silent Bob bit his lip, both hands now diving under 
the skirt and pulling down the underwear and the hose to mid-thigh. 
He grabbed Jay again, kissed him hard, and sank slowly to his knees, 
pulling Jay's hips forward and pulling the gingham skirt up.

He licked his lips, running their smooth wet surfaces over the 
twitching head of Jay's cock. He bent his head, his tongue snaking 
out to trace the vein that pulsed on the underside, causing Jay to 
whimper, his hands fisting in his raised skirt. 

"Please, oh, God, please suck me, please Bob, please, I need your 
mouth--" Jay's usual running commentary was more uneven than usual, 
and Bob only smiled, swallowing Jay slow inch by slow inch, licking 
the sensitive skin in tiny circles once inside his warm, wet mouth. 
Jay cried out, thrusting against him, now stroking his hair, keeping 
his head moving.

Bob reached down, freeing his own cock and stroking it, shivering 
every time one of the snow-covered petals brushed against his heated 
flesh. Hmm. That gave him an idea.

He rose, earning another whimper from Jay, and undressed the blond 
from the waist down, unbuttoning the white blouse and pulling it 
open. Then he took Jay's hands, pulling him down to the snow-
speckled flower-field. Bob reached out, plucking one of the large 
poppies, and ran the melting-ice, petal-soft flower over Jay's 
exposed skin. Moving from the chest down to each leg, and back up 
again, only occasionally grazing the twitching glans with the petals, 
and kissing him whenever he could, he soon reduced Jay to a state of 
pleading moans and reaching hands, the look of mute appeal in Jay's 
eyes worth everything.

Bob stood long enough to shuck off his shorts and pulled Jay up to 
cock level, watching with half-lidded eyes as Jay's mouth sucked him 
in, sucking ardently on him, making him nearly jet into Jay's mouth 
in that moment. He pulled out, breathing hard, and pushed the blond 
back, pulling his legs over his head and driving his spit-slick cock 
into Jay in one thrust. Jay arched off the crushed flowers 
underneath him, screaming Bob's name, and Bob nodded, pinning Jay to 
the flowers with the intense, possessive look in his eyes. **Mine,** 
they said. **Mine, mine, all mine.**

"Fuck yeah, yours," Jay moaned. "Always, always, forever�fuck, yeah, 
that's it, yeah, oh God, ah, HARDER!" Jay's hands wrapped around his 
own cock, pumping hard to bring himself off, the pre-cum glistening 
over his hands and his cock.

That was all Bob could stand. He groaned, pulling Jay's hips towards 
him, thrusting as deep as he could get into the younger man's 
trembling flesh, and shot heat and life and warmth into Jay, 
listening to him cry and shudder and moan. Jay came soon after, 
moaning, crying out, whimpering Bob's name and all sorts of small, 
treasured things he wouldn't otherwise say aloud. They lay panting 
in each other's arms for a long while, snow drifting down around them 
like cold ashes.

There was an odd whooshing noise. Bob looked up, prying Jay's head 
off his shoulder. There was a door standing in the middle of the 
field, about two feet from where they lay. He tapped the blond, 
rising and pulling on clothes. Jay did the same, grimacing as he 
fingered the braids and the jumper, but crawling into them 
nonetheless. Both walked towards the door, watching as its aged grey 
surface grew larger in their vision. Bob looked at Jay. Jay 
shrugged. Jay reached out and opened the door.

*transition*

Two men stormed out of the prop closet, both wearing t-shirts and 
sweats. One wore a trenchcoat--the other a plain black knit cap and 
an angry expression. They headed straight for a large woman with 
burgundy hair wearing flannel, sitting and scribbling into a notebook 
next to the theatre's soundboard.

"Bitch, you do that one more time, I swear to fucking God�" Jay 
lifted a finger, poking it at her.

"What? It was funny. And," she said pointedly, "you had fun."

Jay narrowed his eyes. "Never let it be said a country boy can't 
survive, but that was a bit fucking much! What is your fucking 
problem??"

Silent Bob merely shook his head, staring at her oddly. "Kel�"

Kelandris raised her hands, realizing nearly too late she held a 
steaming cup of coffee. She put it down quickly on the sound board, 
flicking the board off with one black-painted fingernail.

"Look, boys, this was not my idea. This is Dead Grrl's fault."

Jay sneered, curling his lip and cracking his knuckles. "Oh, yeah. 
*Her*. I gots some choice words for that bitch, I see her next�"

Bob tapped his shoulder, indicating with a shake of his head that 
they should leave. Jay nodded, glaring once more at the girl with 
the dyed hair. "Yeah, you be tellin' her I'm after her ass now. We 
are going to have a *talk* next time I see her." He stalked out, 
badass attitude flying in nearly visible lines off him, Silent Bob 
following, shaking his head.

Kel took a sip of her coffee, thinking. She suddenly remembered 
something-hadn't this been her idea in the first place? Oh. Oh, 
dear. She stood, preparing to call them back, then pursed her lips. 
**Ah, let them go,** she thought. **Maybe it'll turn into a story or 
something for her.**

**Yeah,** the backbrain muttered bitterly. **Right after Dead Grrl 
kills us for sending the boys over to her mad.**

**You may have a point...**

Frowning, Kel turned off the theatre lights one by one, wondering 
what was going to happen next. She watched the boys walk to the 
door, flinging it open. Her eyebrows nearly left her face when she 
realized that only Bob was wearing tennis shoes. Jay, in his 
trademark black hat, long unbraided hair, t-shirt and sweats, wore a 
pair of glittering, ruby pumps...

END
*****************