Title: Samson
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, general
Pairing: Jay / Silent Bob
Rating: Mushily G
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 (as I'm having 
problems with Hotmail and I'm keeping Insub as clear as possible)
Series/Sequel: Sequel to "Gold"
Disclaimers: All characters belong to Kevin Smith and 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: Gee, thank you, Alex, for this one. You and your hair 
fetish. :>
Summary: Bob tries to talk Jay out of cutting his hair.
Warnings: None as yet.

"Samson"
by Kelandris


When Silent Bob got home, he made a vow he intended never to break�no 
more letting Jay out alone. The younger man was leaning against the 
door of the apartment, bleeding. He'd been crying, too, and tried to 
turn away, wiping his face.

"Stop that," Bob said, kneeling and taking Jay's face in his hands. 
He had a long scrape along his forehead, which was the source of the 
blood, and Bob relaxed a little�head wounds bleed a lot, and always 
look worse than they are. This one wouldn't even need stitches. 
Probably wouldn't even scar.

"What happened?"

Jay just shook his head, standing shakily, using Bob for support 
until he got his feet under him. "Lost my keys," he mumbled.

Bob reached into his pocket, flipping by touch to the right key, and 
opened the door. Jay slid by him, walking into the bathroom, half-
closing the door. Bob heard water running and stared at Jay, pacing 
back and forth, while he carefully hung up his leather trench.

"Fuckin' pre-teen punks," Jay finally said. "Didn't like the braid, 
yeah, that's one word for it�One of `em pulled a knife and I 
clocked `im, then they all jumped me�Fuckin'�" He trailed off, and 
Bob walked closer to the bathroom. The pacing was unnerving him, but 
he thought, what the hell, if the boy needs privacy�

Then he saw Jay swing the braid around, a pair of scissors in his 
other hand.

"Jay, no!" The denial burst from him before he could suppress it, as 
one hand shot out to slam the bathroom door open.

"Why the fuck not? You aren't out there, man, you don't know what 
kind of shit a man gets from those fucks�" 

Even so, Bob saw his hands shaking as he brought the braids close. 
**Think fast, wabbit!** this crazy voice screamed in his brain. 
Obviously the hair was important to Jay, he had to make him realize 
that. But first, stop the blades.

"You care what they think?" he asked softly.

Jay paused, looking at him. One tear slid defiantly down his cheek, 
and Bob resisted the impulse to wipe it away.

"Like I care what those fucks think of me," he finally said. The 
scissors dropped to the floor. "I just get so sick of them dissin' 
the *hair*, man�You know how fuck long it takes you to grow it 
out??" He waved the feathered ends in Bob's face. Bob quirked an 
eyebrow, looking at him.

"So?"

"So whatchoo gonna do about it, you mean? Fuck if I know. I can't 
go back there." He turned despairing eyes at Bob. "I can't just 
clear out of the turf, though�that's some of my best sales there, 
y'know?" He turned to the mirror and the still-full sink, splashing 
water on his face. "Oh, man, *look* at this shit!" He turned, 
looking over his shoulder, and Bob saw a handful of hair that had 
been broken away.

"Shit, this is *all* I fuckin' need, man, *fuck this*!" He leaned 
down, picked up the scissors again. "That's it, I'm joinin' the 
skinheads--"

He paused when Bob took the scissors from him. Bob reached around 
behind him, grabbing Jay's hairbrush, and left the bathroom. Gaping, 
Jay followed. He was still gaping when Silent Bob turned, sitting on 
the couch, and indicated the patch of carpet in front of him.

"Sit," Bob said softly. Jay opened his mouth. Bob looked at him, 
hard, the first time he'd done that in their short relationship--
pouring all his will behind it. 

Jay gulped and sat.

Bob nodded. He removed the purple band, and slowly, so as not to 
break off any more strands, unbraided Jay's hair. The strands 
glittered in his large hands, alight with late afternoon sun. He 
carefully separated all three strands, and brushed through the one on 
the right, then the center one fully. There were a few tangles but 
Jay didn't protest as he carefully drew the brush through them, 
untangling the knotted hairs.

Then he ran his fingers through the last section, ascertaining the 
extent of the damage. Carefully, he untangled the hairs here, 
sometimes putting as few as three hairs to one side before starting 
in on a new section. Jay stopped breathing.

Bob looked down, tapped his shoulder. "Breathe," he said.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. It's just you�I mean, what you're doing and all, 
I'm glad you're doing it, but I don't understand why you--"

"Shh," Bob murmured, and Jay ground to a halt, trembling slightly. 
Bob licked his lips, putting both hands on Jay's shoulders for a 
moment, squeezing reassurance. After a moment, one of Jay's hands 
crept up, squeezing his fingers in return. Then he squared his 
shoulders, dropping his hand. Bob smiled, and went back to his work.

It took a while. Sunlight crept from the far corner of the coffee-
table to Jay's folded knees by the time he was done. But finally, he 
was assured that everything was as untangled and intact as possible, 
and he drew the brush through the last section. The handful of hairs 
that came out were only about half as long as Bob expected, and not 
as many as he'd thought he'd seen. He handed them to Jay, who 
yelped, then returned to brushing out the boy's hair until it gleamed.

"Okay," he said, handing the brush back. "You're done."

Jay rose to his feet, looking at the hairbrush and the elastic in his 
hand.

"Yeah," he said softly. Bob rose, taking his shoulders again and 
shaking him slightly.

"And *tomorrow*," he said sternly, "I'll go with you."

"You--will?" The hungry look in Jay's eyes nearly broke Bob's heart.

"Yeah," he said. He nodded to back it up. He watched as another 
tear slid down Jay's face, and he didn't have the heart to resist. 
Bringing up his thumb, he carefully wiped it away. Then, before he 
could do anything else, he sat back down on the couch, picked up a 
comic, and opened it. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Jay 
stand there, staring at him, then slowly rebuilt his confidence.

"Yeah," he said again. "Yeah. *Yeah*. We gonna kick their punk 
asses *down*, man!"

Bob shrugged. **Whatever,** he thought. **But I'm not kidding about 
being there.**

"I know, man," Jay said, and walked away. Bob looked up, composure 
shattered.

**What did he say??**

END