Title: Seeds of the Pomegranate
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: NC-17 towards the end, PG-13 throughout most of it
Status: New
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Archive: Yes if you tell me
Series/Sequel: Answer to Meghan's Goth Bob challenge.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Kevin Smith and the View 
Askewniverse, save for Avriel, who worked very hard at the Spirit 
Superstore during the Hallows season here in Spokane. Very cool 
lady; I hope she comes in to the shop soon so we can talk more.
Notes: Yes, Avriel is a real person, but this is my creation of her, 
not actually her; not that I need to make the point, but still. This 
was written in slashes to three strange soundtracks�scattered 
childrens' programming, New Age music, and repeated viewings of the 
Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode, "Once More with Feeling". 
And "Curl Up and Dye" may be somewhere in New Jersey, I haven't 
checked; but I know it's here in Spokane. Sadly, it's not a goth 
outlet.
Warnings: Some chick action with Bob. Oh, please, deal--he gets Jay 
in the end. :>
Summary: Bob helps a girl by going undercover in a goth club.

"Seeds of the Pomegranate"
by Kelandris


((At the death of Eurydice, Orpheus in mourning struck a bargain to 
enter the Underworld alive. He walked through the labyrinth of the 
dead, looking for Hades, who told him he could play for Eurydice's 
life. He played so skillfully Hades granted him Eurydice, but only 
if he walked out of Hades' realm without looking back. He nearly 
made it, though at every step he was convinced this was all a cruel 
trick of Hades' invention, and Eurydice was not, in truth, following 
him at all. At the last minute, at the mouth of the Underworld, he 
experienced doubt, and turned around.

((Eurydice faded before his eyes, reaching for him, and he knew all 
hope was gone.))

The First Step: Orpheus Loses Eurydice

The customer looked unconvinced, standing there peering uneasily at 
the bag of rich bud Jay held. The blond smirked, rolling it up in 
practiced fingers and moving it like a cigar beside his face.

"Never gonna see this again, my man. Look at those heavy buds. 
Those fine little red hairs. Look at the bottom of the bag, dude--do 
you see even *five* seeds?"

Jay shook the bag out for him to look again, then folded his long 
fingers around the bag.

"Going...going...better grab it quick, dude, we got other fuckin' 
places to *be*..."

"I'll take it!" the man said, sounding hysterical and disconnected at 
the same time. Jay just nodded.

"You made the right choice, dude. Now cough up the cash."

While the man uncrumpled various bills, Jay looked over his 
shoulder. He had a prime insult salting his lips, but Bob wasn't 
standing. Now, where the fuck had *he* gone? He looked around for a 
moment, then spotted him standing off a little distance, next to some 
slut. Shit, all the fuckin' time...

Wait, it was some slut he knew. What the fuck was her 
name...Amy...no. April?

No, *Avriel*...who the hell was named Avriel anyway...some Cali-
fuckin-transplant from San *Fran* of al places, right here in Red 
Bank. Or did she live in Highlands? Like he even cared enough to 
keep track.

As usual, she was all gothed out an' shit. Pale face, extravagantly 
shadowed eyes, blood-red lips, black nails. Lace an' frills an' 
piercings--one through the nose, one through the lip, and one through 
the eyebrow. Okay, the piercings didn't bug him, hell, he had the 
nose pierced himself, and the rings in his eyebrow, so like he had 
fucking ground to stand on there. But there were a whole bunch of 
rings on her ears, like trophy markers.

Briefly he was distracted by the thought of those ruby lips wrapped 
around his cock, but he shook it off and ambled over. What was the 
confab session for, anyway?

He caught only snatches of their conversation as he stepped closer.

"--taking a big risk, Vree--"

Jay sneered. Oh, sure, bitch talks to *other* people--bitch talks to 
*girls*--but not him. Silent motherfucker. One of these days--

They were talkin' again. Jay inched closer.

"Tell me what you need."

"All you have to do is--"

"Yo, my *man!*"

Jay jumped a clear foot, snarling as he turned. "What the fuck do 
you--oh," he said. He looked at the big, vaguely dazed man standing 
beside him, loopy grin wandering around his face.

Fred Oberkowski. Pothead Fred. Normally one of his nearest and 
dearest. Today, though, he could have stood without seeing him.

"Hey, dude," Fred said.

"Hey," he said distractedly.

"You got some choice bud this week?"

"Some," he hedged. He scanned the lot--normally Bob's job, but Moron 
Boy was still flirtin' with the chicklet, not doin' his job.

Looked clear. He rolled out his stash, and Pothead--bless his stoned 
li'l heart--bought everything he had.

"Big party," he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Yeah, Jay thought. Like I fucking care. Jay watched him walk away, 
the clean weight of several hundred dollars in one pocket cheering 
him, even with GothGirl slobbering all over his Muscle. Pretty good 
day overall. Then his eyes drifted back to Bob and his mood sunk. 
What now? He stalked over to where they stood talking, only to watch 
Bob's last nod and shoulder squeeze on the mutant chicky, and watch 
her scurry away.

"And what the fuck was *that* all about?" he asked, looking after 
her. The corset she wore was the same shade of eggplant velvet as 
her skirt, but the shirt was black, as were the leather boots that 
seemed molded to her shapely calves. Just for a moment, he was 
entranced, then he shook it off again, and turned back to Bob.

Bob just shrugged. Jay snarled again.

"So I get nothin'? You have some conspiracy going with the dead set, 
and you don't tell me?"

Bob shrugged again. "Nothing to tell. She's a friend."

"Friend. Sure. Blow you in the nearest back bathroom, think I don't 
know that?"

Bob shook his head. Jay turned, one arm flailing in the air behind 
him. His face contorted as he looked around the empty lot.

"Fuck you, dude. We're sold out. Let's get home already." He 
didn't wait for confirmation, just started walking towards the bus 
stop. He knew Bob would follow, but something in him still waited 
until he heard the slight sussurance of leather brushing against 
sweats to be sure Bob was behind him. Fucker and his secrets, let 
him keep `em. Like he cared. Like he cared at all.

The ride home was silent and tense. Jay didn't feel up to his usual 
patter; after the first few comments, everything seemed to have 
hidden edges, and he just sat there, arms folded across his chest. 
By the time he got home, he was reaching a fine simmer, and couldn't 
seem to shake the grimace from his mug. Being home didn't help. He 
couldn't remember what the movie was they watched, after the credits 
rolled, and he didn't feel up to a bowl of the good stuff, or even a 
beer. He drank coffee and felt as bitter as the black liquid in the 
cup.

Bob, man. Motherfuckin' Bob. It wasn't like they didn't share 
things. Fuck, roommates did that. Bob knew everything about him, 
and where girls were concerned...Okay, sure, some years Bob got more 
bush, some years him, and sometimes they shared a split-tail now and 
again. Nothin' wrong with that. Guys did that. But this...what the 
hell did he see in Avriel, anyway? It wasn't the first time he'd 
caught them talking.

Friend, my ass, he thought resentfully, and rose from the couch. 
Time to take this all to bed, let his head clear out before 
tomorrow. But at the door to his room, he turned, looking behind 
him. Bob still sat on the couch, but now he was looking over to 
where Jay stood. The expression on his face...

Jay closed his eyes, willing the expression away. When he opened 
them, Bob's face was blank, but that unguarded vulnerability was gone.

"So," he said. He sounded unsure, and damned himself for it. "You 
wanna hang out at the mall tomorrow? We still have some of the mid-
range, we could bring that over...?"

Bob shook his head. "Thought I'd stay in," he said softly. He 
looked away and Jay felt his fists clench. Mother*fucker*...

"Yeah," he said. "Sure." And he walked into his room, throwing 
clothes wherever they fell, and curled around his pillow, looking at 
the blank wall which was his side of Bob's room. Fucker...

He'd show him. He'd dog him until Bob told him what the fuck was 
up. Then he'd know. Then he'd know what it was Bob was hiding.

Then he'd clock him in his stupid, pretty face. One good right 
hook...yeah, and then Bob would get up and tear him to pieces. Jay 
sighed, curling tighter around the pillow. Still. Wipe that smug 
look off his Muscle's face...even for a moment...Yeah.

With that thought, he fell asleep.

END
*****
Kelandris the Mad
oh, look, it's a big fluffy bunny