Title: Twitch
Fandom: J/SB for the most part
Rating: I'd say R for language, and at least R if not higher for 
sexual situations. And ooh, the bite of Bob jealousy, haven't felt 
that in a while. Gee, I hope Jay gets out of this all right.
Series/Sequel: This should be a stand-alone, but you know how I get...
Disclaimer: I forget all the usual babble I put in here. I grovel 
at Kevin Smith's feet to feel flattered by this, not litigious. (Not 
a bad position, must be said, though his wife would probably beat me 
soundly for letting it cross the forebrain.)
Summary: See Jay and Bob. See Jay and Bob go to a club. See Jay 
meet a girl. See hijinks ensue.

"Twitch"
by Kelandris


Smoke drifted in lazy spirals over chromed struts, over rotator 
supports, over exposed wiring and matte-painted pipes. Bob inhaled 
deeply on the cigarette in his mouth, looking up, catching his 
reflection in crazy-tilted mirrors. One of them accurately reflects 
the dance floor where he saw Jay dancing with his latest acquisition, 
a short stacked redhead who bounced in an eye-popping fashion. Some 
mental defective had painted leopard spots and leaping stick figures 
on the wall behind the main dance floor. Silver spray-paint, no 
less. Bob grimaced. No style.

Still, he got to stand here against the back wall and watch Jay dance 
just by looking up. Fewer finer sights than watching his boy move, 
hair swinging out behind him like the robe on a dervish. Bump and 
grind and now those hips were going, jerking forward, jerking 
back...He made the mistake of looking at Jay's face and had to inhale 
sharply. The look of pure unadulterated lust filling his eyes, his 
smile hit him like a mescaline hammer, making his heart stutter to a 
halt in his chest. He took several shallow, shuddering breaths, 
ground out the cigarette, and moved to the bar.

Amazing. He was still shaking. **Fuckers with long hair,** he 
thought wryly, then corrected himself.

**No, just Jay. Only Jay.**

*I got a boyfriend
He's a bad boy
He is my favorite
He is my joy*

By the time he got there, Jay had noticed him and was moving to 
intercept. He drew close to Bob, shaking his head and screwing his 
face up, looking between the man in the trench and the girl in the 
tank top.

**Here it comes.** He wasn't disappointed.

"What, ya tubby bitch, thirsty for more already? Goddamn alky, I 
fuckin' swear...Good thing we're done for the night, you'd'a smoked 
up all the profits!!"

Bob raised an eyebrow, completely confused, and Jay ran a finger up 
his arm, smiling shyly. It removed any sting from the words and left 
him shuddering again. Then he looked at the girl, standing there, 
twitching in time with the music. Or maybe in time with Jay, who was 
twitching on his own internal metronome. Hip jut, head waggle, hand 
jive, shoulders arching in a way that would send him to the hospital 
for a week, and now the feet wiggling and tapping. Just watching him 
was making Bob nervous, and he quickly turned, ordering another 
couple of beers. Then he looked at the girl again, gesturing with a 
thumb towards the bottles under halflight.

*I got a boyfriend
Danger Boy!
He's got a girlfriend
She is my toy!*

She just stared at him, big eyes blinking. Bob felt slightly 
irritated and tried to force it down. Always picked these absolute 
brainless cases, nothing going for them but youth and beauty, and he 
could never figure that out. He'd stayed up nights wondering at it, 
worrying at it, and he almost had the answer, but never completely. 
Jay wasn't stupid, not by a long shot. Five years of dealing, and 
the only arrests he had were for assault, not drugs. And he liked 
Bob, hell, more than liked Bob...Another warm flush thrilled through 
him and he covered it with a quick sip of beer, passing two other 
cold bottles to Jay and the girl. She actually squealed and simpered 
when he handed her the beer, and something of the shock he felt must 
have shown on his face. Jay started to scowl and Bob started lining 
up his defenses, then sighed, realizing they'd have to leave the bar 
in order to have this discussion, because the music was vibrating 
them into jelly.

*Sometimes he'll twitch for no reason
It's just a twitch and it's part of his style
He tells me I'm his one and only
I'm the only one making him smile*

One more beer, he thought, watching Jay go into the routine. Quick 
trip to the back room for Jay and the Bimbo of the Week, one more 
cigarette for Bob the Bouncer. He tapped it out now, then held the 
beer and the cig in one hand, the flame in the other, watching them 
walk off out of the corner of his eye. Why was he upset? Not like 
they'd declared anything, right. Fuck, Jay wouldn't let him declare 
anything, wouldn't even let him speak half the time. 

His eyes glazed over as he remembered how Jay usually shut him up, 
and he was licking his lips before he realized it. He shook his 
head, looking around. Cig, on fire, check. Bottle, half empty, 
check. Smokes, cash, lighter, roll of change, check. Okay, back to 
the wall.

*Sometimes he'll twitch for no reason
It's just a twitch and it's part of his style
When he's feeling sad and lonely
I'm the only one driving him wild*

And then the trip home, yeah, he'd forgotten that. During which Jay 
will probably jive around the bus, swing from the handholds, make 
several rude comments, and get them threatened with eviction at least 
three times. He didn't realize he was angrily tapping his foot as he 
watched the door to the `employees only' section swing shut behind 
Jay and the Bimbo's pert round ass.

And all for what? All for fucking what? **Go home, smoke a bowl, 
have some more brew, get the boy relaxed enough to pry that veneer of 
I-hate-the-fucking-world off for a while, and then kiss that pretty 
mouth, lick that pretty neck, and some quick bump and grind before 
we're both off to bed. And do it all over again tomorrow. And 
always remember, it's not love, it's not even fucking *sex,* because 
he's not fucking gay, is he? Not like he doesn't throw *that* in my 
face enough fuckin' times...**

Bob sighed, closing his eyes. He could imagine all too well what was 
going on in the coatroom or the employee lounge or wherever the fuck 
they were, and he didn't like it. He didn't like it. And what was 
it, exactly, made him put up with the little shit in the first place?

A flash of Jay wrapped in a towel seared across his brain, long blond 
hair dripping over those lightly muscled shoulders, nearly hairless 
chest glistening, pale planes and angles making his mouth water.

*he really likes me
he likes my mom
he buys me ice cream
he likes my song
he has a nice car
I buy his gas
but in the back seat
he moves his ass!*

**Fuck. *Fuck* this!** Setting the bottle carefully against the 
wall, he took off, trench flowing behind him like a banner of war. 
And Jay was there, suddenly, no girl, no scene, just there. Bob 
looked around, wondering if he'd suddenly started to hallucinate.

Jay shrugged, mouth twitching. "Dude, like she means more to me than 
you do. She can grab anyone in this shithole and get her ass screwed 
to the wall."

Silent Bob for once had nothing to work with. Even his thoughts had 
dried up. His entire brain had vapor-locked. But his eyes flicked 
around, and saw the side door, guarded by a sleepier bouncer than the 
slab of beef at the front. He steered them towards it, nodding 
noncommittally to the man on the stool, and thrust Jay through.

It was a back alley. It was good enough. He watched as Jay 
staggered a bit, then turned back towards Bob, looking pissed. Bob 
waited until his brain unfroze.

**Okay. Good. Let's do this.**

"What the fuck?" he said softly, just an edge of steel under the silk.

"What the�are you completely stoned? I saw how you were lookin' at 
me! Fuck, I figured you wanted to go home, you know, get some?"

"Get some?" Part of him was scrambling frantically away from the 
dangerous shine of rage in his voice. Jay didn't seem to care, 
stepping forward and shaking his head from side to side, cracking his 
neck with a loud popping sound.

"Yeah, you know, we could go home and play some. Beats dancin' in 
some dive when it's not with�"

Jay's eyes cut to the side, suddenly absorbed in the brickwork, and 
that was all that kept Bob from tightening the fist he'd started, 
knocking Jay to the ground. He played the end of that sentance over 
and over in his head. Yeah. Okay. Maybe they had something here.

*Sometimes he'll twitch for no reason
It's just a twitch and it's part of his style
He tells me I'm his one and only
I'm the only one making him smile*

Suddenly he strode forward, grabbing Jay and pulling him close, so 
close that he could feel Jay tremble in his arms, feel the heat of 
him radiating over his chest, his legs. Oh, yeah. This was good.

Bob shook him, lightly but firmly, watching Jay's eyes widen. 

"Is this all it is? Play?"

Jay's lips were trembling, but he snarled out the words anyway.

"What the fuck else would it be, Lunchbox? Like I got some serious 
fucking thing for you, fuckin' fag in a trenchcoat�"

Bob shook him again.

"No," he said firmly. "Is. This. All. It. Is. To. You?" He 
punctuated each word by a little shake.

"Fuckin' lay off me, man, I'll pop you, I swear to Christ!"

Bob nodded, accepting the risk. Then he kissed Jay. It wasn't their 
usual casual graze, as if they both had something better to do and 
just happened to have their lips in the same area at the same time. 
It wasn't the heated press of fevered flesh that Bob engaged in, when 
he couldn't keep his mouth off Jay's skin. This was a *kiss*. This 
was deep. This was true. And as Bob slid his tongue into Jay's 
opening mouth, he felt Jay shudder all over, pressing against him, 
and moaning.

Moaning? Oh, *fuck* yeah. This could go places.

*I'm the only one driving him wild
I'm the only one driving him wild
I'm the only one--waaaaaayeah!*

Suddenly the girl from the club burst through the back alley, looking 
pouty, all her former heat subsumed by childish pique. Her voice was 
a grating whine when it did emerge, and both men reared back, eyes 
wide.

"Jaa-yay," she whined, "you went away, and I thought we were gonna, 
and you said, and what the fuck are you doing out here?"

Bob stepped forward, head lowering, when Jay put a hand on his arm 
and slowly shook his head. **Figures. We finally get somewhere down 
this road and now the car's fuckin' stalled again. All the fucking 
time�**

But Jay surprised him. He walked out from behind Bob, shaking his 
head.

"Sorry, *chica*. Goin' home with my boy, here. Don't think I have 
the energy to fuck him into a coma *and* you, babe. Go find some 
other streetmeat to play with."

*"Wha-aat?"* she screeched, and stamped her foot, fist clenched. Jay 
only laughed, watching Bob, who inhaled so slowly it was almost a 
battle move in itself. Then he tapped out a cigarette, lighting it, 
taking a long, slow puff before looking at her. He gestured to her 
with his chin. Gestured to the back door with the cigarette.

"Get the fuck in there," he growled, and she yelped, running for the 
door.

*My boyfriend's back and you're gonna be in trouble...*

"Mother*fuck*, now that's what I like ta see, you defendin' my ass! 
Fuck, that might just get you an extra, somethin', I don't know..." 
He trailed off, and then looked up, throwing an arm around the larger 
man.

"Y'wanna go home and see how many porn tapes we can get through? 
Before you beg me to stop, I mean?" Jay was looking unbearably cocky 
but for once, Bob didn't care. Happily, he nodded, handing the cig 
to Jay, and lighting another. They made their way arm in arm out of 
the alley.

Yeah. That was the good stuff. But he had the feeling Jay was in 
for a terrible surprise about Bob's endurance levels...

END
(song is Bif Naked's "Twitch" from I Bificus)
****************