Title: Quirky Sense of Humor
Author: Jade 
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob, Jay/Andrew (OC), Jay/Everyone
in Jersey (implied)
Rating: Hmmm.. it�s long, there�s lotsa cussing, some
guys smooching, sex sounds.. we�ll go with "Ahrrrr!"
Archive: Yep. 
Feedback: jade27_al@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: In this story, I only own Andrew. Everyone
else belongs to Kevin and the fine people at View
Askew. 
Notes/Warnings: Uhm, I think this counts as a
deathfic. Bob�s dead, Jay dies. And it�s from Bob�s
POV. The bunny was getting rabid. But it was cute
bunny. But why do I always get dead Bob bunnies?

-------------------------------------------------------

I stood outside his bedroom door, listening casually
to the urgent moans and cries coming from within,
leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. I
don't know why I waste my energy on it, it's not like
it does anything for me. It just wastes what little
energy I have. But it makes me feel comfortable. And I
need to be comfortable. Comfort is about all I got
left.

How long has it been anyway? That I've been watching
over this little blond haired fowl mouthed stoner.
Well.. former stoner now. He explained it to someone
recently, that forty, Jesus, forty. Forty was just a
bit too old to be a 24/7 pothead. I never thought I
hear him of all people say that. He still deals
though. He deals to high school punks who in turn deal
it to other high school punks.

But that's neither here nor there really.

But anyway, if he's forty now, that means.. shit. I've
been here for ten years.

I knew it had been a while, but I didn't realize..
shit. Ten years.

That little fucker must have stopped going.

I'll stop here for a moment to explain things, as I'm
sure I've confused you a bit.

You see, apparently it was ten years ago or so that I
died. I don't remember it, but Jay's told the story a
few times to some friends. I guess we were standing in
front of the Quick Stop, just doing the typical thing,
when some fuck with a gun and a grudge decided to take
me out. No muscle, no dealing. That's what Jay said.
He said I died in the ambulance on the way to the
hospital. 

I don't remember it.

I do remember, however, getting to Heaven. Once they
spotted me, the angels and dead people and shit, they
escorted me right to God Herself. She just smiled and
hugged me. That was kinda weird. But, it was God, so
of course I hugged her back.

"Robert." She said. I was waiting for my head to
explode, and when it didn't, she continued. "We need
you to do something. You're still needed on Earth."

I cocked my eyebrow.

"What she's saying," The Metatron cut in, "Is that we
need you to play guardian angel for a few years, as no
one else up here is willing to look after that
foul-mouthed little stoner."

God elbowed Metatron in the gut and I tried not to
laugh.

"But he's right. The thing is, Jay.. well.. he
obviously need some protecting." A soft snort escaped
her lips. "The only catch is he won't be able to see
you, hear you, feel you, and so on. We need you to
protect him from himself. And since you've been doing
that all of your life.."

"I'm the best person for the job." I finished and she
nodded.

I sighed. I was so tired at that point. Can I just
sleep for a few years? But before I could say anything
else, I found myself standing in front of the
apartment I shared with Jay. No wings, but I had my
gear. Works for me. After a few attempts at opening
the door, I figured I could just pass through it. That
was fucking weird. Passing through solid objects.

As soon as I stepped in, I wanted to step right back
out. The place was a mess. Fuck, how long had I been
gone? I heard sobbing coming from my room. Sobbing,
more like the sound of someone who'd lost their only
friend. It had to be Jay. I shuffled down to my room,
and sure enough, there was Jay, bawling and cursing
his head off.

I stroked his hair, and whispered words in Russian.
Russian always calmed Jay down after a fight or some
sort of tragedy. Even as a child, when he would climb
in my window crying because his father busted his lip
opened. I would hold him and murmur the little bit of
Russian I knew.

After a few minutes, the tangle of hair, limbs, and
nerves finally fell asleep.

That was the first day.

The next few days he didn't move from my bed. I sat on
the dresser watching him sleep, wake, cry, calming him
when he cried, or trying to anyway. I remembered he
couldn't see, feel, or hear, but I think he sensed me,
somehow, because always, when I laid my hand on his
golden hair, the tears slowed and the sobs became less
harsh.

After about a week of this or so (I can only assume
from the 'beard' on his face), the basic human
necessities of food and shelter forced him to venture
out to 'earn' his keep, me trailing at his heels. He
got onto the bus and I followed, taking my usual seat
across the aisle. And he didn't let anyone sit there.
Some woman with her screaming kid nearly sat on, or
rather through me, when Jay snarled at her, saying the
seat was saved.

He got off at the mall and just walked in like it was
nothing. People asked, and he told them what happened.
Played it real cool. If someone looked sorry for him,
he'd yell and tell them to fuck off, that muscle was
muscle and they were a dime a dozen. That kind of
hurt, the thought that I could be replaced so easily.
However I noticed he never did get a new muscle. After
getting knocked around a few times he started bulking
up. Essentially, he became his own muscle. But that
wasn't until much later.

He sold what little weed he had on him, enough for
some groceries and part of the rent. Then he went
home, muttering something about needed a new area. 

Once we stepped off the bus and went inside, Jay
simply went back to my room, curled up in the blankets
and began crying again. And again I comforted him (and
myself as well) until he fell asleep. I took my place
on the dresser, dug around in my trench, pulled out a
fresh pack of Nails and light up. It didn't even occur
to me until later what I was doing. Had a good laugh
about it.

This little pattern of wake, cry, eat, leave, sell,
return, cry, sleep continued for God knows how long.
When it broke, I thought he would finally be alright.

Duh.

The next night, he went out and fucked anyone he could
get his stoned hands on. Male, female, he didn't care.
Anything with two legs and a hole he could put his
dick in. Typical Jay. Thinks sex and drugs will make
everything better. He would bring home his companion
for the night, and they would generally fuck until Jay
passed out, his 'friends' leaving quite unhappy about
it.

I always made sure the door was unlocked for them.

Then one day we were on the bus, I thought we were
heading to the mall. He avoided the Quick Stop like
the plague now. However the bus sailed right past the
mall, Jay didn't even bat an eye. It wasn't until
about 50 minutes and 3 transfers later that I found
out where we were headed.

The Leonardo Cemetery.

He wandered up and down the trails, finally stopping.

Do you know how fucking creepy it is to see your own
grave? That is some straight up fucked up shit.

Without a word he set about cleaning the headstone
off. Picking out dead grass from the carved letters,
wiping off the dried mud, not stopping until he was
completely satisfied with it. Then he started talking.

"Hey Bob. What's up man?" He voice caught a little.
"It's already been a fucking year, you know that?"

I hadn't. That was a fast year.

"Yeah. So. I miss you man. I miss you so fucking much.
I wish I knew who did it. I'd fucking kill them."

He sat there until it was dark, just talking. I
listened to every word he said. He just needed someone
to listen. He always needed someone to listen. Finally
he wiped his eyes on the sleeves of his shirt.

"Shit man, it's dark already. I need to get home. I'll
come back again, alright?" His eyes darted around and
he placed a light kiss on the stone. "Later, man." And
with that, he got up, brushed the dirt and grass off
of his jeans, and left, sobs catching and crawling out
of his throat.

He's done this every year. That's how I know when a
year's gone by. But the little fucker must have
stopped because I know we haven't been out there ten
times.. have we?

Eventually he stopped crying, even when he left from
his yearly visit. Now there's just the barest hint of
moisture in his eyes.

Probably because of Andrew.

Andrew, I like the guy. Well, I mean as much as you
can like the guy who's fucking your.. ex? Would he be
my ex? I don't know. You'd be amazed at the shit I
don't know now.

But he's nice enough. Has short black hair, a soft,
black goatee on his chin, about as tall at Jay is, and
has bright blue eyes.

And he makes Jay happy. That's what's important.

One time he took Andrew with him to come visit me.
Introduced him and everything. I could tell he was a
little unnerved until Jay explained that we'd been
friends since practically the day we were born. That
my opinion, and this part sort of shocked me, had
meant the world to him.

I could tell he was about to cry again, but before I
could do anything, Andrew swept him up into a hug.
They stood there for a while, Jay sniffling slightly
into his chest, finally murmuring something to the
tune of "Let's go home."

He didn't say goodbye that time.

And you know, I think that was the last time he was
out there. I guess that was... three years ago.

Damn him.

It's hard enough keeping track, now he had to go mess
it up like that.

I'd be mad, but I can't be mad. Not at him, not at
Andrew. Only the motherfucker who gunned me down. But
fat lot I can do about that now.

But anyway, that brings you up to speed.

And now I'm standing here by Jay's bedroom. He still
lives in our old apartment. But he's since converted
my room into a sort of office place. Office in that it
has sun lamps and several pot plants growing in there.
Most of my stuff, what he didn't want or couldn't
keep, he pawned. He kept a few old sweatshirts and
both of my trenches. The old beat up leather one and
the green one.

The noises have finally stopped. I poke my head in and
there they both are, sleeping. Light from the
streetlight outside creeping in the window, shining
stripes of light along Jay�s pale chest and smooth
baby face, catching a few patches of his tousled hair.
The blond shining like gold, and the recently acquired
gray streaks like silver. He still wears it long,
nearly below his ass now, although he usually keeps it
in a braid. But it's down now. He�s still as beautiful
as ever.

God, I'm so tired. I just want to sleep. I feel like I
could sleep for the next ten years. I think I will. I
trust Andrew. Jay'll be fine.

I wander over to the couch and flop over. You think
it's hard keeping track of Jay when you're alive, try
being dead and having to do it.

***

"...Bob?"

I snorted and woke up. My first thought was "Shit, how
long was I out?" Then I looked towards the voice.

Holy shit! Jay! He's looking right at me! How can he
see me? God said he couldn't see me! And he's talking
to me! Then I notice... he looks younger. His hair's
shorter. He looks exactly the way he did before this
happened.

A huge grin breaks out on his face and he jumps on me.
I let out a yelp, but before any sound gets out, his
lips are on mine. God I missed this. Not kissing per
say, although I did miss that as well, but just having
some kind of contact with another being. I wrap my
arms around him and kiss back. Kissing into him the
past however many years it's been. Tastes like pure
sugar. So fucking good.

Finally he pulled back, a smirk plastered on his face.
"I knew I'd find your tubby ass sleeping. You lazy
bitch."

I blinked. Could someone explain this?

As if I'd said it out loud, Jay answered. "God told
me."

I blinked again.

Jay sighed. "Dude, you know how long you've been
sleeping here?"

I shook my head.

"She said it was about 40 years. When I got up there,
She told me to come get your lazy ass and bring you
home."

So.. that means.. Jay...

"I died. Old age and everything. Shit, I didn't think
I'd make it to eighty. Almost eighty-one."

Oh God.. he died and I wasn't there!

"Nah man, I died on the couch. Right here." He patted
the couch where I�d been sleeping. "I just laid down
to take a nap and well.. here we are."

".. what about Andrew?"

Jay blinked in surprise. I guess he forgot I'd know
that.

"Andrew.. shit.. haven't thought about him in a while.
He had to move a long time ago. He wanted me to come
with him to fucking Washington or something. But I
couldn't leave. I grew up here in Jersey, ya know? I..
just couldn't leave."

I nodded.

"So." Jay got up. "Let's get the fuck home. We gots
some serious shit to catch up."

Lived to be eighty, and his grammar never improved.
Nor did his vocabulary expand.

God I've missed him. I can't wait to get back up
there, can't wait to get home.

END