Title: Pretzel Logic
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: Oh, this is just a pure mush piece, barely sexual at all...damn
it
Status: New; posted July 25, 2002
Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And here's how:
Feedback: Kelandris
Series/Sequels: Oh, this might, if only because it's irritating me,
leaving it as half-done as it is. I swear, this feels like a sketch
piece.
Disclaimers: No insult is intended...blah blah blah...all respect...blah
blah blah...rights reserved to Kevin Smith, View Askewniverse and
Miramax, as well as Jason Mewes...yada yada yada...thank you for not
suing.
Notes: Something I started several months ago that I started working
on again tonight, between hands of Magic: the Gathering. Somehow,
starla-girl's birthday coming up *and* her being in such a Deeply
Scary Place, jolted this out of me. Hopefully, you all won't think
it sucks.
Warnings: Oh, please. This is nearly safe enough for church.
"Pretzel Logic"
by Kelandris the Mad
"What the hell are you doing?"
When Silent Bob opened the door, Jay looked like a pretzel. The
blond was supporting himself on his hands, the muscles corded along
his tanned arms. The golden hair dusting them sparkled in the light
that slanted through the dusty apartment windows.
Bob blinked, supposing he could be forgiven for speaking, just this
once. Jay hadn't even looked up yet. He seemed to be counting, his
lips moving silently over each number. His legs were wrapped around
his neck, and his midsection swayed forward...swayed back...swayed
forward...
Bob shook his head, moving into the apartment. No good thinking
thoughts like that. Thoughts like that only got him sheets he had to
wash more often. Of course, now, as he moved behind Jay, all he had
to look at were the flexed muscles of his back under the t-shirt, and
the golden fall of his long hair, tied back with some scrap of
cloth. It was red, and cotton, and unprinted; that's all he
recognized before his eyes moved down Jay's body, the planes of
muscles curving from ribs to the hollow of his spine, to the barely
rounded half-globes of his ass--
"Yoga," Jay said, lowering himself to the floor and unwrapping his
legs from his neck. Bob watched Jay's long feet slither away from
his shoulders, and swallowed. Flexibility. He knew Jay had
flexibility. That flexibility had gotten them out of a lot of
scrapes, actually, and--
**searing flash of Jay naked, Jay pulling those long, *flexible* legs
towards his ears, his mouth begging, pleading Bob to come on, come
inside him, come inside him and--**
Bob shook his head, moving into the kitchen, putting the bag of
groceries he'd gone out for on one of the counters. He listened as
Jay rose from the carpet and ambled in, long bare feet shuffling
through the strands of polycellulose. Blindly he put half the bag
away before what Jay had said registered.
Yoga. He'd said yoga.
"Yoga?" Bob asked, surprised into conversation once more. Then he
flinched as Jay ran a finger across the back of his neck, forgetting
to breathe, before the more familiar cackle filled the air. A sharp
jab into his side took the rest of his breath away.
"Man, you are so fuckin' easy, I swear...musta been some kinda wet
dream fer you, *comin'* in on me then like ya did..."
The way he leered, the way he stressed the words, made him flush. He
shook his head, blinking, and moved half a step away. His stunned
brain handed him line after line of commentary that he ruthlessly
suppressed from vocalization.
**Yeah, actually, it was,** he thought longingly. **You in those
bike shorts and that tank top, just...just...*spray-painted* on, and
why the fuck don't you wear clothes like that outside this house?
No, you wear sweatshirts and long shorts and leggings and cut-offs
and big, baggy t-shirts...**
He realized his hands were trembling, and swallowed. Jay looked over
his shoulder at what was on the counter.
"What, no cigs? You brain-dead or somethin'? Man, we *need* smokes,
dude, need smokes *bad*!"
Right. He nodded spastically, turning and walking out of the kitchen.
"Where you goin' now, fat ass?"
Bob risked one look over his shoulder, running his eyes almost
palpably over the outline of muscled curves, the bulge underneath
thin black spandex at Jay's crotch. Shit. He had to leave. He had
to go. He had to--
"Get smokes," he gasped, opening the door and stepping outside.
There didn't seem to be enough air in his lungs, and he was gasping
for a long while on his walk to the Quick Stop. Hour on the bus to
the damn store, hour back, and all to leave the house again because
Jay was being...being...
What the hell was Jay being? And where the fuck had he learned yoga?
He turned around, intending to start back, and found Jay strolling
about half a block behind him. He stifled a shriek, and slowly
inhaled, his mind seizing on higher number functions in a desperate
attempt to calm down. Square root of 81. Sine and cosine of 5,060.
Find seven procedures to solve this equation: x plus y equals 49.
**Okay. Okay. We're fine, man, we're just fine. Stop seeing your
roommate naked. Fuck, get a grip.**
"Man, you look freaked as shit, dude," Jay said, the corners of his
mouth quirking. "What the hell is goin' on in that big head?"
Bob frowned, shaking his head slightly. **Big head. I'll show you a
fucking big head--**
He froze, twitching slightly. **Shit. *Breathe*, motherfucker!
Mother of God, he's going to figure you out--**
Breathing unsteadily again, he patted his pockets carefully for cigs,
pulled out a battered half-pack, and lit two cigarettes by habit. He
inhaled, letting the crisp, acrid smoke circulate in his lungs, then
handed the other cig to Jay, who took it and breathed in grey smoke
gratefully.
"Fuck, man, that's almost better'n sex," he sighed, exhaling smoke in
a long stream.
Bob's brain seized again. His body, thankfully, was still capable of
functioning on previous orders. It turned him around and began
marching him towards the Quick Stop. Jay, still smiling, walked
around in front of him.
"I don't think so, Silent Bob," he said, his voice soft and scratchy.
Bob blinked. **What now?**
"You should come back wit' me--I can show you some o' this shit
Lise's been teachin' me--c'mon!"
And he burst into a run.
Silent Bob scowled after him, following only after long
consideration. He might have known. Lise was Jay's latest--
something. He didn't know what. She came over, they spent long
hours in his room, but it didn't sound like they were in there
screwing their brains out. A lot of giggling, actually, more than
anything else.
So Lise knew yoga. He wondered darkly what else she'd been teaching
Jay, as he followed him up the stairs. It hit him like an almost
physical blow, watching that trim ass take the stairs in spandex--he
couldn't believe he hadn't noticed that before.
**Shit, man, find a fucking hobby. Other than boning the boy.
You're gonna go crazy here...**
And just that simply, they were back in the apartment. Down to four
cigs, he knew, and he'd be leaving again when those were out. But
Jay didn't seem to care. In fact, he walked over to Bob, pulling at
the larger man's arm until he'd walked him to the center of the room.
"Siddown already," Jay said. He promptly collapsed into a knotted
position that looked uncomfortable as hell. Bob raised his eyebrows,
but shrugged out of his trench, throwing it onto the couch. With a
slight grunt of effort, he folded himself up on the floor.
Jay just shook his head, blue eyes twinkling. " `Kay, now, breathe."
**What?**
"You heard me. Just breathe for a while. Close your eyes."
Licking his lips nervously, he closed his eyes, breathing in. He
tried to take deep breaths, but he began to focus on Jay's breathing
instead. Soon he was breathing silently, shallowly, listening to
Jay. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold--
"Bob!"
His eyes snapped open. "What?"
"You gotta *breathe*, man! Fuck!" He scooted around behind him, and
Bob immediately went rigid. Jay snorted, brushing his mid-length
hair aside and wrapping his hands around his shoulders. He clenched
his hands, and then started slowly kneading the tension from Bob's
neck and shoulder muscles.
"That...feels really good," Bob managed to gasp. **Oh, Lord. I'm
doomed,** he thought.
"Good," Jay said. He moved closer, and now Bob could feel the heat
of his body against the thin fabric of his black sweatshirt. The
hands rubbed up the column of his neck, fingers tangling in the short
hairs at his nape, making him gasp. They moved back down, rubbing
along his shoulders, rubbing along his upper arms, squeezing and
relaxing.
"That's better," Jay said. "You're relaxing."
Bob clenched his eyes shut, willing his body to go limp, to just
accept this for what it was, nothing more. Sheer will carried him
through, forcing his body to go soft and rubbery, forcing his half-
hard cock to soften.
**Okay. Okay. Just breathe. This doesn't mean anything. He just
cares for you. He--**
The hands danced up the back of his neck again, the fingertips
trailing over Bob's very sensitive ears.
**Oh, shit--**
With a strangled moan, he pivoted, grabbing Jay and pulling him
forward, plastering a kiss on Jay's still-smiling lips.
**Oh fuck--oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh--**
But...Jay didn't seem to mind. Jay was...oh, Lord. Jay was kissing him
back.
Suddenly the half of him that had been rigidly tense relaxed, and the
half that had started to go soft went rigid. Jay's elbow brushed up
against his crotch and he pulled back, staring at Bob.
"Damn, Silent Boom. You are one dense motherfucker. You just
figuring this shit out now?"
He shrugged, feeling dazed. This was happening too fast, this was
all happening too fast, his brain couldn't keep up. Slow down, he
wanted to plead, slow down and let me know if you're really serious,
let me know this isn't just some hallucinatory nightmare I'm going to
wake up from later--
Jay watched his eyes, laughing slightly. "Man, oh man, Lise tol' me
you was slow."
Then his eyebrows danced, wickedly arched. "Hey," he
whispered. "Bob."
Bob looked up. He was so stunned at this point, he knew his eyes,
his face, was completely open. Yearning, want, confusion--it was all
there, frighteningly easy to see. What the hell would Jay do?
"How slow are ya?" he asked.
And the minutes stretched into hours. Suddenly, he had exactly the
right amount of time.
END
*************
Kelandris the Mad
we stood and talked for hours
