Title: Song of Justice
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, post J&SBSB. Spoilers in a vague way for 
the end of that film.
Pairing: Jay/Bob, some mention of Jay/Justice, some mention of 
Banky/Hooper
Rating: Songfic, AngstyFic, kind of lack of sex fic R at best and 
that only for possible language and mentions of homosexuality.
Status: New
Archive: The traditional places. If you don't know what the 
traditional places are, you might want to write and ask. And here's 
how:
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: Aaaagh. No sequels. (She says, leaving an ending 
that screams sequel. Crap.)
Disclaimers: Kevin Smith, View Askew Productions, Jason Mewes, Scott 
Mosier, and Miramax have creative control and ownership of Jay and 
Silent Bob. I am just an insignificant slasher who wants the boys to 
have fun now that they've retired. I'm not even charging them.
Notes: Bad night. Can I just say that? Bad night with partner 
arguing with me for no reason I can imagine. Somehow related to not 
wanting to get cat food. Aaaagh.
Summary: Bob wishes he knew the right words to say to Jay. Not for 
the first time.
Warnings: Only on this side of the screen. The tale's pretty 
plebian, actually. PJ Harvey song, though--guttural pain on parade.

"Song of Justice"
by Kelandris


*Oh my lover
Don't you know it's all right?
You can love her
You can love me at the same time*

The dark-haired man walked off the stage, lighting a cigarette by one 
of the side doors, inhaling the rough smoke into his lungs. He 
watched as Officer Willenholly, his expression indulgent, uncuffed 
the girl in the orange jumpsuit. He watched, his eyes narrowing 
slightly, as Jay walked her off into a corner to talk.

He remembered earlier this morning. They'd gotten back from 
Hollywood a few months back, and the premiere of the film based--at 
least in part--on their lives had been the night upcoming, in New 
York. A limousine had picked them up at six that night. But that 
was hours from when Bob had awoken, rolling over and looking at Jay. 
They were both nervous that day, everywhere but with each other. 
There, the ease of long practice had made Bob turn in the bed they 
shared, kissing down Jay's neck, pulling him into his arms.

*Much to discover
I know you don't have the time but
Oh my lover
Don't you know it's all right?*

And then they had gone to the premiere. And Justice had been at the 
after party. How could he deny Jay the chance, however slight, at 
having something conventional in his unconventional life? He didn't 
have the supportive family behind him or the good childhood or the 
strong education, or any of a thousand other little details that made 
someone a solid, normal person. It was one reason he and Jay got 
along, because he wasn't exactly the most normal soul himself. A 
peace-loving member of the Russian Mafia, from a strong family that 
to this day expected him to marry, settle down, and start raising 
little Gradenkos. Hopefully with some sturdy Ukrainian girl with 
long hair and wide, child-bearing hips.

He looked at Jay again, smiling. Well, he picked a lover with long 
hair, anyway�

*Oh my sweet thing
Oh my honey thighs
Give me your troubles
I'll keep them with mine*

Blowing smoke rings, three at a time that expanded out from each 
other, touching and dissipating, he slipped from the side door, 
emerging into the street. On the other hand, he couldn't just stand 
there and watch Jay hold Justice's hand, staring limpidly into her 
glass-covered eyes. Especially when he'd rather be the one holding 
Jay's hand. It was frustrating. It was irritating. It was 
depressing.

"Hey, big guy," he heard. He looked up. Hooper and Banky were just 
coming around the corner. Bob nodded at both men, puffing another 
ring into the air.

"So, you comfortable with the celluloid thing yet?"

Bob shook his head. As if. He glanced back at the closed door of 
the bar. God, if they were only back in New Jersey. Away from all 
this film insanity. Away from Justice. With whom Jay was still 
planning a life, in a few years. And what the hell would he do 
then? Stuck with half a love and his other half in love with someone 
else. It wasn't fair. But then, neither was life.

*Take at your leisure
Take whatever you can find but
Oh my sweet thing
Don't you know it's all right?*

Banky raised his hands. "Hey, I cut you in on the royalties, what 
more do you want?"

Frowning, Bob looked at him. What the hell? Hooper touched his 
shoulder, looking patiently between them.

"He means, sweetness, he doesn't want to feel guilty anymore about 
trying to pull a fast one on a guy he'd been dismissing as an 
insignificant stoner. And you, darling, you should march your ass in 
there and *tell* that boy a few things."

Both men stared at Hooper. He backed up, shaking his head.

"What? It's no secret you didn't think they'd know enough to mind 
the film being made. Am I right or not?"

Banky nodded slowly, looking dazed.

"And it's also no secret how you feel about Jay," he said, turning to 
Bob. "My god, if you had a loudspeaker there'd be a scream every 
time you saw him with that girl."

Bob swallowed. Banky peered at Bob. Then he turned towards Hooper.

"You mean�Jay and Bob are fags?"

*It's all right
It's all right
There's no time
So it's all righ-igh-ight*

Bob clenched his fists, dropping the butt of the cigarette to the 
ground, grinding it out decisively. Banky stepped back towards 
Hooper, who pushed him away.

"After that crack, I *should* let you get your ass kicked, here, but 
I shall enlighten your sorry existence. *Again*. I b'lieve our boy 
Bob, here, would more comfortably define himself as bi. *If*, that 
is, he's into playing the definition game, which to date hasn't 
seemed to be his gig."

Hooper looked at Bob. "That about right?"

He shrugged. He lit another cigarette. He puffed out another smoke 
ring on the air, this one twisting into an upright infinity symbol 
before stretching into invisibility.

"And you are the *last* one, *mon ami*, to question anyone's 
sexuality."

"Hey, hey, I am not your--" He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, what 
the hell. Whatever, Hoop."

*What's that color
Forming around your eyes
Once my lover
Tell me that it's all right*

Bob lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Think your Jay's much more fluid about the whole sexuality thing, 
isn't he?"

**Pretty much.** The blond bombed-shell could take or leave 
relationships as long as he got sex. He didn't seem to care with 
who. And most days Bob was pretty sure Jay at least liked him, but 
love? He wasn't sure it was possible that Jay *could* love anyone. 
He wasn't even sure he loved *Justice*. But he was playing the love 
card hard and heavy, which was depressing at times.

*Just another
Before you go...go away*

"So what are you gonna do?"

Bob smiled weakly at Hooper.

**I'm gonna finish this cigarette. I'm going to stand out here for a 
while, see if I can get just a little colder than I am right now. 
Then I'm going to go back inside and do my best not to watch Jay and 
Justice. Then--**

The door from the bar opened, spilling out two giggling forms. Jay 
and Justice, arms around each other, looked at the odd tableau of 
forms already in the alley.

"Oh. Hey. Sorry, dudes. Didn't know this was a private confab. 
C'mon, Boo-Boo, less go find the bathrooms!"

Justice looked at Bob's still face, at Hooper's irritated one, then 
returned her attention to Jay.

"Yeah, okay," she said, and they went back inside.

Bob stubbed out the second cigarette. He didn't light another.

"Changed my mind," he said softly. "You want to get drunk?"

"Excellent idea," said Hooper. "C'mon, Bank, you're buyin'."

They turned, Hooper opening the door to the bar. Banky hurried after 
them, looking worried.

"Why do *I* have to buy the drinks?"

"Because you're the one that says so many stupid things, love. Now 
get your ass inside."

*Oh my lover
Why don't you just say my name ?
And it's all right
Say it's all right
There's no time*

END
(Song is "O My Lover" by PJ Harvey)
*****
Kelandris the Mad
I'm weaker than I used to be