Title: Too Late
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, post-VA5
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: Songfic. R, definitely, R for Rotten Trick. S, maybe, for 
Shit, how could you do this to Bob and Jay? T for Try it again and 
we'll break your fingers? *Psigh.*
Status: New
Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note...
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: In order: this follows "Defeat", which 
followed "Broken Promises", which followed "Barely Breathing", which 
followed "Silent". Everyone with me now? Good. This should end yet 
another trademarked Kel five-part trilogy. 
Disclaimers: All parts of my fannish being are enriched by the 
presence of Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, Jason Lee, Ben Affleck, and all 
the merry characters at View Askew Productions (including their 
current master, Miramax,) save for that pesky financial part of my 
being, which receives no compensation whatsoever for these tawdry 
little tales.
Notes: "I don't think Bob would turn up on Holden's doorstep," she 
says, and I look up from writing. "Oh," I say smartly, "yeah, maybe 
you're right, but there's some good stuph in the last story, and I 
don't want to ditch it, specifically...it's just Holden's being a 
fucker right now..." "Yeah," she says, walking from the room, "and 
I'm not questioning you, you're the writer. You can do anything you 
like. I just don't think Bob would go see Holden, that's all." So 
on top of all the Holden angst I now have believability angst.
(*Editor's further note: So, after rewriting from near-scratch the 
midsection of the story previous, and since I decided to go ahead and 
yes, alter the ending, I turn to this one and find that I've written 
more here than I thought. Oh, crap. So now I must needs find a 
better reason for Bob to be in bed with Holden.)
Summary: Aftermath of a night of bad badness. Bob returns from 
Holden's digs with a few new realizations in his brain, then gets 
them wrong anyway.
Warnings: Not so many. Much less angsty than expected. Also 
shorter, as I changed the ending on the first story, which alarmingly 
uncomplicated this one. Plus, having worked harder than ever before 
on ungutting the story previous, I was now thoroughly tired of this 
arc and wanted it over. It's over. They're back together. Go home.

Additional notes: THIS...ONE...SCRAMBLED...TOO. Kel is now 
breathing hard and trying not to break things. 
Must...find...hard...drive...

"Too Late"
by Kelandris


*You pace the pool and talk about it
I read my book and think about it
You've walked on water as I'm turning the page
You say, "What's the intrigue here...in reading when the sky is 
clear?"
You are in the sun
and I am always in the shade*

There was a click, and a barely audible hum filled the air. A high, 
indistinct woman's voice filled the air, singing notes that tripped 
over each other, tumbling over the sound of the drums and the piano 
work.

"Mm," Bob said. He blinked, feeling fuzzy and indistinct 
himself. "Whosit?" he mumbled.

"Nanci Griffith," said the voice behind him. "Go back to sleep."

And Bob obligingly closed his eyes before they snapped open half a 
heartbeat later. Where the hell was he? He felt a breath of air 
caress his shoulder, realizing the blanket had slipped slightly, and 
registered at the same time the strong masculine arm curled around 
his midsection. Skin against him, even if his skin was clothed, was 
an overload on top of the headache that throbbed behind his eyes. 
Carefully he looked down, and as slowly as he could, he bugged his 
eyes out.

It still hurt.

The problem was, he'd had to bug out his eyes, because the arm curled 
around him was covered in hair as dark as his. Thus, not Jay's arm. 
Thus, not Jay behind him. And, come to think of it, he didn't 
recognize anything around him. Oh, this was bad.

**Try to piece this shit together, Bob,** his backbrain urged. 
Okay. Dark-haired man behind him, check. Directly in front of him, 
rolled steel bars and then a whole lot of down past the balcony 
level. Check, don't go wandering after dark. If he was still here, 
he amended.

Okay, keep going. His eyes flicked upwards and he grimaced in pain 
again. High ceilings. Very high ceilings. Wavy corrugated ceiling, 
steel-silver but some rust spots, wavy corrugated walls, skylight 
nearly directly overhead...Ah. He had it.

Holden's place.

Then he stiffened, all over. What the hell was he doing in Holden's 
bed??

*It's too late to leave you
you know that I will never leave you
It's too late to know you
you don't like to be known*

Holy fuck. He remembered...being pissed at Jay, that was obvious. 
Okay, reconstruction time...Fuck, his brain hurt. His head hurt. 
His... Holden was kissing the back of his neck.

Bob blinked. In Holden's bed. Can't remember getting to Holden's 
bed. Did we...?

Wait. Information coming in.

*"You have...really great hair," Holden had said in this dreamy, 
wondering tone. He'd lifted strands of it, his fingers brushing the 
back of Bob's neck, and between that and the whiskey...*

Oh, shit. He'd been drinking. He'd been drinking the lethal of all 
lethals and it wouldn't have surprised him to find fucking *Dante 
Hicks* in bed with him after that.

But...wait. *Did* he and Holden...? 

Accessing...Here came another one. Holden had kissed him. Oh, 
*great*. It wasn't bad enough he had one jittery junkie fuck-up, 
emotional cripple with a big side of jackoff in his life; no, now he 
had to go wandering over to the miserable melancholic pining headcase 
that was Holden McNeil. Great. All he had to do was blow Walt 
Flanagan's dog and he'd be a perfect poster boy for what was wrong 
with New Jersey these days. Jesus fucking Christ.

But it hadn't been... He waited a moment, feeling Holden settle in 
behind him, waiting until Holden's breathing slowed as he drifted 
back into sleep. It hadn't been a *romantic* kiss, that was what his 
sodden brain was trying to tell him. It had been a kiss--he had been 
quite thoroughly kissed by one funnybook author with a crush on a 
homophobe--but it hadn't been baby-I-want-you-in-bed-now action. It 
had been more... I'm-desperate-I'm-hungry-I'm-cold-and-alone, please-
take-me-in kind of deal.

Shit. This had been a pity fuck? For Holden? Man, no. Not even 
*Jay* would sink that low.

*You would never hold me
I don't like to be held
I will always love you 
in spite of myself*

Think, brain, work for me here. No, he'd left. He'd left after the 
kiss, he was sure of it. He'd left, walked out the door, and made 
for home. And then...

Damn, his head hurt. Unthinking, he brought his hand up, touching 
the source of the pain, and it was unbelievably tender, felt raw and 
crunchy with dried blood, streaking stiff through his hair.

What the hell?

Behind him, Holden shifted, blinking. The arm around him was pulled 
away, Holden making some small embarrassed sound behind him.

"Um. So. G'morning."

"Maybe. I'm back here...why?"

"You don't remember."

Bob shook his head and then wished he'd never moved. Pain swept over 
him, huge, crushing, inducing fear and nausea.

"You were mugged."

"Mugged," he said softly. Huh. That was new. He hadn't been mugged 
since...man. He'd been in grade school!

*I can feel the weather changing
And the leaves are tired and turned with anger
They fall around us like a veil
of golden tears*

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I went out for breakfast and you were in a back 
alley. Didn't look like they did anything to you but take your 
money. Shit, even your wallet's in your coat. They just took the 
cash and hit you with something heavy." Sitting up, Bob blinking 
through the movement of the bed, Holden snorted.

"Well. Probably not in that order."

"So you played the good Samaritan? Big of you."

Holden walked over to Bob's side of the bed, kneeling and taking one 
of his hands between those long, elegant fingers.

"Please believe me...if I hadn't been so drunk, I would have kept you 
awake. You...seem fine...but after the struggle with the couch, and 
the throwing up, I got tired, and I...fell asleep. It's only been 
two hours...but I'm still sorry, Bob."

"S'okay," he said, thinking of shrugging, then thinking better of 
it. Holden nodded once, rose, and carefully made his way down the 
stairs. He heard the woman singing and Holden speaking on the phone, 
but comprehension was curiously indistinct.

*You have never needed me and I'm not good at being needed
This season will be leaving us
but we will still be here*

He remembered little else until the cab honked its horn, and Holden 
came up to help him downstairs. And everything went blurry again 
until they arrived at the hospital, where he was dutifully poked and 
prodded and examined and spoken to, after waiting for several hours, 
dozing on and off, in the waiting room.

Finally, they let him go, replete with prescriptions, and he limped 
carefully out the door of Emergency, seeing Jay standing there. He 
looked nervous, angry, scared and confused, holding his arms crossed 
around his torso as if he were chilled to the bone.

Bob simply raised his eyebrows, leaning against a roof support, 
looking the question at the blond.

Jay shrugged, looking around as if, at any moment, hospital workers 
would leap from the bushes and drag him into the building.

"Holden called me. Why the fuck were you there?"

"Needed to talk to him."

"About what?"

Bob looked at him, blinking, and looked around, as slowly as he 
thought he could.

"Can we go somewhere? It's...cold," he said, latching onto the first 
excuse he could.

"Fuck yeah," Jay said eagerly. He stepped away, and only then did 
Bob see the cab running. "Get yer ass in the car, dude."

Slowly, moving like a geriatric, he did. He flashed the scrips to 
Jay once in the car.

"We need to stop by a drug store," he said softly.

"Yeah, whatever."

*Do you miss me when I'm far away?
Do you save me for your rainy days?
Is my picture on the mantle...or is it in the fire?
It's odd the way the years fly by
They leave us standing side by side
You have been my mystery
And I've been your desire*

The pharmacy was easy. Even getting Jay to pay for the meds had been 
easy. Jay was obviously holding back. He had a feeling Jay was just 
waiting until they got back home, and then he'd be hit with it. He 
was pretty sure that was Jay's secret plan. Not too hard to figure 
out, he'd just have to be careful how he handled it. Things were 
blurring now to an alarming extent; at times, he saw three Jays, 
standing and glaring at him. Not good.

Finally, the door to their apartment was shut behind them, and Jay 
helped Bob to the couch. He got a glass of water, so Bob could take 
the first round of pills, and then stood there, arms folded, glaring 
at him.

"Awright, now, you tell me what the fuck is goin' on. You tell me or 
I'll hit you someplace you *didn't* get hit yesterday, an' it'll hurt 
more."

Looking up, Bob blinked, then nodded. And then he told Jay.

Everything.

*It's too late to leave you
you know that I will never leave you
(it's late)
It's too late to know you
(it's too late)
you don't like to be known*

By the end of it both men were standing. Bob was breathing hard, and 
Jay was red from screaming. They stood there, staring at each 
other. Now what, Bob thought, tired all over again.

Jay's hands clenched at his side, and the expression on his face was 
daunting. Pain, fear, frustration, aggravation were all there in 
good measure; as well as love and anger and hurt and 
incomprehension. The combination of all of it, directed out on the 
laser-light beams of Jay's eyes, made Bob's head spin, standing there.

"Fuck me runnin'," Jay cursed. "You're actually fuckin' *jealous* of 
Justice?"

What?

He'd expected anything but that.

Bob gaped like a fish, unable--or unwilling--to articulate words of 
explanation. He watched, stunned, as Jay shook his head.

"Shit, man, I thought you understood. I thought you, of alla them, 
could understand... Fuck. *Fuck*! Get this, okay? It ain't gonna 
last. She don't know me from shit, she don't know anything about me, 
and she ain't gonna like anything she finds out. But I'm somethin' 
to hold onto, you *get* that? That *simple* enough for that big 
fuckin' brain? She ain't gonna stay with me after jail. If she's 
smart at *all*, she's gonna break up with me right as she gets out 
and head for the nearest town to disappear forever. I ain't leavin' 
you. Fuckin' idiot."

"You..." Bob swallowed. He shook his head. He must have drained 
the batteries on his smooth, because he just stood there, raw and 
confused and scared. He blinked, and Jay pulled back a fist.

"You say you never knew I'm gonna clock you one, I swear to fucking 
God!" the blond screamed. 

*You would never hold me
I don't like to be held
And I will always love you 
in spite of myself
yes, I will always love you
that's in spite of myself*

Bob, wisely, said nothing. Instead he pulled out a pack of 
cigarettes, tapped out two and stuck them in his mouth. He lit both 
with a practiced click and strike of his Zippo, and handed one to Jay 
with hands that only barely trembled. He noticed Jay's hands 
trembled a little, when he took the cigarette and took his first puff.

His voice was softer when he spoke again.

"Shit, Bob...I know you deserve better. I know I promise things and 
then screw `em up. I know I break your heart, like, weekly, `cause I 
don't know shit about lovin' people. Fuck the whole screwin' a guy 
thing, I got no clue about just likin' people. I know you know what 
I'm sayin'."

Bob nodded. He desperately wanted to hug Jay now, and didn't know if 
he could do it without breaking down, and didn't know how Jay would 
take it. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he scowled and stood 
there.

Jay grimaced, seeing this. "Man, you're gonna pull every inch of 
this out and light it on fire, ain't you? Fuckin' hell..." He 
puffed angrily on his cigarette for a moment, face dark. Then he 
exhaled and looked up.

"Okay, you fucker, `cos I ain't sayin' this again. I love you. 
Awright? I fuckin' love your big fat ass and your stupid dark hair 
and your big dumb eyes and your fuckin'...awesome...mouth...An' yeah, 
even that big-ass brain you `pparently use only every other 
month, `cos this is just stupid shit, Bob, I fuckin' mean it. You're 
bein' an idiot. *I love you*," he finished, scowling. "That good 
enough for ya??"

"Yeah," Bob said softly.

"Well, good then. We all better?" And he pulled Bob against him, 
pressed himself to Bob in a rough, unsteady hug.

"Watch the head," Bob gasped, still obscurely touched.

"Gimme head," Jay snarled back, but he waggled his eyebrows, almost 
not smiling.

"Maybe later."

"Awright. I can deal with that."

So could he, Bob thought. There was some form of comfort in knowing 
he wasn't the only idiot in this relationship. Still smiling 
quirkily, he let Jay lead him off to the bedroom, calling him names, 
insulting his preferences, then tenderly undressing him and letting 
him rest.

He *was* tired. But he was also loved. That made a better pillow 
than anything else he owned.

*(it's late, it's too late)*

END
(Song is Nanci Griffith's "Too Late")
***** 
Kelandris the Mad
doll parts dangle from the ceiling