Title: Waiting on Sunday
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, Clerks era
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: Songfic rated R for language and adult themes.
Status: New
Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note...
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: Should be original one-shot.
Disclaimers: Still making zip, zilch, nada writing about other 
peoples' creations. Jay and Silent Bob belong to Kevin Smith and 
View Askew Productions. And hell, at this point, though it's a side 
credit, to Miramax.
Notes: Brief and non-relational appearance of Dante and Randal 
(sorry, Taylor).
Summary: What Jay and Bob do on weekends.
Warnings: Built to sequel, depressingly enough. For some reason 
this was written from a distance, and I'm not sure why they wanted me 
40 miles away from the center of the action. Maybe the next one will 
feel more like I'm at least on their block. Weirdness.

"Waiting on Sunday"
by Kelandris


*well I know it's just a spring haze
but I don't much like the look of it
and if omens are a godsend like men
breezing in*

The man in the trenchcoat inhaled smoke deeply into his lungs, 
looking out at his life. There wasn't much of it not covered in 
pavement, but it was his; or at least, his and young Jay's. There 
were entire months that went by, day to day, with the only difference 
being the movie they watched at night. Behind him, the wall he 
leaned against opened into RST Video, and to his right, it was two 
doors down to the Quick Stop door.

Dante Hicks poked his head out at that moment, peering at him.

"Where's the loudmouth?" he asked.

Bob angled his head back towards the video store. Inside, arguing 
with Randal, as usual. If Randal wasn't threatening to have them 
arrested, he and Jay were chumming it up like long forgotten 
friends. Or, as now, they were arguing like an old married couple. 
And sometimes the transitions happened with a dizzying speed.

"Customer and I cornered a shoplifter; turns out he's got about two 
grand on him, a bank bag and a gun. I called the cops. You... might 
want to be scarce for a bit."

Bob nodded, stubbing out his cigarette. Make it an early day, then. 
It was Sunday, they deserved some time off. Pickings had been good 
today, lot of college students dreading Monday. He ambled into RST 
to pick up Jay and make his way to the bus stop.

*certain these clouds go somewhere
billowing out to somewhere*

It struck him as intriguing that Randal seemed to reserve some 
special level of hell for Jay, always looking for the barest excuse, 
the narrowest breath of controversy, to get Jay in trouble. Not that 
he didn't get into enough on his own, but still. And yet, Dante had 
never had a problem with Bob. Or, he amended, until Jay had moved in 
with him.

He wondered today, as he had in the past, whether familiarity in this 
case was the breeder of the contempt. He knew that Randal and Jay 
had gone to school together, at some distant time in the past. 
Whereas Dante had grown up in Highlands, New Jersey, not Leonardo. 
In fact, he hadn't moved here until his family had, a few years 
back. Now, one of his brothers lived in Red Bank, another had moved 
back to Highlands, and he had an apartment here. 

The bell rang over the door as he walked into RST Video.

*in a single engine cessna
you say we'll never make it there
so all we do is circle it*

"--don't know what the hell you're talking about," Randal was saying 
acidly. "Lobo killed his entire *planet*, you think one little 
Canadian's gonna bother him?"

"You fuckin' take that back, asswipe--Wolverine would mop up the 
*floor* with that Justice League motherfucker!"

Bob sighed. Logan versus Lobo. This could take a while. He ambled 
over to where both men stood, leaning into each other's airspace, 
screaming.

"The Justice League was an aberration--if Dox hadn't cheated in the 
fight, Lobo *never* would have gone to work for those tights-wearing 
pussies."

"Go `head, fuckwad." Jay cracked his knuckles, sneering. "Call 
Batman a pussy again."

Bob cleared his throat, indicating the door behind him.

"Gimme a minute, dude, I gotta teach this boy some *respect* for the 
Main Man..."

Bob shook his head, shaking it towards the door. "Cops," he said 
succinctly.

"Oh, man, you are *so* fuckin' lucky we gots to jam, or I would make 
you eat every single lyin' word--"

"Yeah, yeah, you and what little girl in a pink dress?"

Jay shrieked, and Bob sighed, setting his feet and pulling the young 
man out of the store by force. Stray strands of long blond hair 
escaped to be ruffled by the wind as they walked across to the bus 
stop.

*uh oh, let go, off on my way
unseen, this eternal wanting
let go, way to go, so I get creamed
waiting for Sunday to drown*

"Did you *hear* that fuck? `Little girl in a pink dress', I oughta 
go back there and kick his bony ass--"

Bob shook his head, tapping his watch. "Cops," he repeated.

"Yeah, and who called the fuckin' cops this time, huh?"

Bob checked the time again, checked the lot, then turned towards 
Jay. He indicated the Quick Stop. Jay looked hurt for a moment, 
then the shields came back on full.

"Fucker... what'd we do to him today?"

Bob sighed again.

"Nothing," he said softly. "Shoplifter." One hand waved aimlessly 
for a moment, as if in explanation, and then fell to his side.

"Huh," was all Jay said, though, and soon after the bus arrived. 
Moments after they got on, the black and white pulled up.

*so I know it's just a spring haze
but I don't much like the look of it
and all we do is circle it
and I found out where my edge is*

Back at home, the usual routine again. Bob unlocked the door, 
stepping inside and shrugging out of his trench in the same motion, 
hanging it carefully in the coat closet. Jay dropped his coat by the 
door, stretching, already headed into the kitchen for a beer. The 
older man, frowning, picked it up, dusting it off and hanging it up 
beside his in the closet. Shutting the door quietly, he walked to 
the couch, sitting down and stretching his feet out.

He played the last few weeks over in his mind, watching Jay's 
reflection in the night-mirrored window glass. Rise, have breakfast, 
leave for the mall, or for the Quick Stop, or to some restaurant for 
some deal or other. Then somewhere for lunch, back to the mall, or 
to the Quick Stop, or to some store for some deal or other. Then 
dinner, either out or at home, and a movie, or music, or comics, and 
then sleep. Some time in the middle, get high, crunch some more 
brain cells between chemical teeth, and step back into the routine 
afterwards.

He frowned slightly. Wasn't there more? There used to be more to 
his life. Before Jay.

*and it bleeds into where you resist
and my only way out is to go
so far in*

As if hearing his name resting in Bob's mind, Jay danced over to his 
own internal beat, bearing two beers which nearly spilled three times 
in the short walk. He handed one to Bob, kept the other, and walked 
over to the video rack.

"Jay," Bob began waiting until his friend looked up at him.

"What, dude? Hey, could we watch Hard Target again?"

Bob shook his head. "Is that all you want to do?"

Jay looked up, his eyes widening. "Fuck kinda question is *that*?" 
He shook his head, standing. "Hey, you wanna go out, we c'n--"

Bob shook his head again. **Not what I mean,** he thought, cursing 
the inability of words to truly express anything he meant from his 
heart.

"Are you happy?" he finally asked.

Jay shrugged. "Dunno. What's happy?"

Oh. *Shit.*

*billowing out to somewhere
billowing out Luna Riviera
billowing out to somewhere*

"You've never been happy?" Bob asked quietly.

"I been... Shit, dude, why we talkin' `bout this? Can't we just get 
baked and watch a tape and get some shut-eye?"

Bob shrugged. Apparently not. He looked the question back at Jay, 
and he signed deeply. He walked over to the couch, slumping deep 
into the dark cushions.

"I been pain-free, off and on," he whispered. "Nice little crunchy 
bits `a X and some sugar sticks, and some `shrooms when I find `em, 
and wet sticks now an' again, and pot all the fuckin' time. `I wanna 
be sedated'," he sang softly, bopping to the beat. Then he looked up 
again, looked at Bob, a sheaf of hair falling over his right eye.

"I'm startin' to feel safe. I been good, mosta the time. I don't 
know about happy, though. Happy. Happy is, what, hugs and puppies 
and shit like that? I don't get happy."

*uh oh, way to go, off on my way
unseen, this eternal wanting
let go, so I go, way to get creamed
waiting for Sunday to drown
waiting on Sunday to drown*

"Nothing makes you happy?"

Jay looked down at his hands, shaking. "Somethin' might,," he said 
to his hands. "But if I'm wrong, I'd mess up somethin' good, and I 
can't do that. I can't, it'd be too much."

Bob thought. Who had Jay been involved with of late? He couldn't 
remember anyone in particular... in fact, for the past few weeks he'd 
been as close to celibate as Jay ever got. Well. If he didn't know 
who the girl was, he didn't know how to advise him. This could get 
tricky.

"You should try, though," he said, feeling massively 
uncomfortable. "If you don't tell..." Damn, he couldn't even tap a 
name out of Jay's recent history. He'd either become the soul of 
discretion overnight, or he was contemplating becoming a priest. He 
shook his head.

"If you're not honest, then you risk them finding someone else, 
right?"

Jay nodded, looking miserable.

"So you have to act."

Jay still looked miserable, then finally looked up. He was biting 
his lips.

"Jus' remember, you said," he said softly, then leaned forward, 
kissing Bob on the lips.

*waiting on Sunday
waiting on Sunday to land
uh oh, so I go, way to get creamed
waiting for Sunday to drown*

The kiss was the match to the fire inside him, and suddenly, he faced 
a roaring blaze of emotion. And for the longest time, he couldn't 
see through it to see if he was enthralled, or enraged. And Jay just 
sat there, waiting for the blow to fall.

Oh. *Shit.*

END
(Song is Tori Amos' "spring haze" from "to venus and back"; quote 
below is from Amos' song "datura" on the same album)
*****
Kelandris the Mad
is there room in my heart for you to follow your heart