Title: Roommate out of Joint
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, pre-Clerks
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: Songfic. R for language, mentions of drug use. NC-17 for homosexual activity, semi-graphic m/m sex.
Status: posted to the site 5 October 2004
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: Kelandris
Series/Sequels: Sadly, it's a start-of-series kind of story. I hate those.
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: It should be stated that the crack torch mentioned in the story is mine. I don't know why, but I have a Bic lighter that refuses to emit anything but a six-inch flame, regardless of how low it's actually turned. I find it terribly amusing that I've never done crack, and neither have any of my friends, yet we all understand what's meant by it and are comfortable with the term. (This may be an overage of armchair analysis on a story prop. Deal.)
Summary: Jay introduces Bob to the wonderful world of pot.
Warnings: Nigh-constant drug use through entire story. Not exactly an advertisement for DARE. (Dorks Against Relaxation & Enjoyment? Dweebish Authorities Restricting Education? Dickless Adults Releasing Evil? You might get the idea I don't like them. You're absolutely right. At least they have the 'threat of terrorism' to keep them busy right now.) And m/m sex, could go graphic in later tales.

"Roommate out of Joint"
by Kelandris the Mad

*leave me alone I'm over it
and everybody's movin' on
I can't see my tomorrow
and yesterday has come and gone*

Grey-green smoke filled the air, and dimly, the man on the couch watched the man in the kitchen. The comparisons were interesting some days: he had dark hair, Jay had blond; he was on the hefty side, Jay was thin as a wraith; he had pot, Jay was bringing back beer.

His name was Bob, and the blond's name was Jay.

He giggled, not at all sure he should be finding it funny, but it was. God, it was. He laughed harder, and Jay began to smile, walking back to the couch.

"Dude, you are *toasted*," he said. His raspy voice tickled Bob's nerve endings.

He nodded vigorously, nearly falling off the couch. He was still giggling. He watched as Jay packed another cone, lighting it and inhaling. He watched for what felt like hours as Jay inhaled, and wondered if the younger man was going to breathe out again at all. He sat forward.

Now it was Jay's turn to giggle--or it would have been, if his mouth and lungs hadn't been full of smoke. As it was he smiled as wide as he could with lips closed, then leaned forward, grabbing the back of Bob's neck.

Involuntarily, Bob shivered at the contact, his eyes widening. What the--

Jay kissed him.

*so leave me alone
my mind has blown
but it's my own
so deal with it
I'm feeling fine most of the time
I may be on the outside
but no one's getting in*

In shock, Bob opened his mouth, and Jay breathed into him, filling his lungs with charred and sparkling green. Before Bob could get his breath back, Jay licked across his tongue, sucking on it briefly, then pulled back, pulled his lips away. He looked almost unbearably smug as he reached for the bong once more.

"Your turn," he said, laughing.

**My turn for *what*?** Bob thought, shaking his head. He blew out smoke he'd never inhaled, and stared in shock at his roommate of all of a year.

"Your turn," Jay said patiently, "at the bong, dude. Shit, where were *you*?"

Smiling sarcastically, he handed over the lighter and the black ceramic bong, and took a swallow of the beer.

**Right. He brought beer over.** Bob rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if brains could lose cylinders. He felt like he was chugging at two-thirds power after Jay's kiss. He reached for the bong and a bottle of beer, deciding he trusted his Zippo over the flame-thrower length of the crack torch Jay preferred. Jesus, you could lose hair to something like that--flame on the Bic must be six inches high at times!

*so leave me alone
we're okay reelin' in the days
we're all right we're just gettin' high*

Lighting the bong, he positioned his mouth properly, then had to think. Wait. Something was missing. He looked up as Jay moved closer to him.

"Shit, dude, I gotta teach you everything *again*? Man, and the chicks say you're all smart an' shit. If they only fuckin' knew..."

He leaned forward, clamping a finger against the hole just above the glowing coal of the lit pot. Bob leaned down, clamping his mouth against the top of the bong and inhaling, pulling more of the charred green glow into his system. He inhaled for as long as he could, was proud of himself when he didn't cough once this time, and looked up to see Jay staring at him paternally.

In a whoosh, the smoke fled his system, and he blinked.

"Dude," Jay said. "Such a fuckin' newbie. Maybe you need some help."


"Pack that bong, boy. I'm gonna watch."

Bob shrugged, and set to work packing a moderate cone. Jay shook his head.

"Nah, you gonna need more 'n that," he murmured, taking the bong from him. He reached into the bag of pot on the table, repacking the cone, but then reached into another open bag on the coffee table, pressing in chunks of a darkly resinous substance. When he was done, it was a truly mammoth cone, and Bob's eyebrows rose.

Jay just smiled, handing it to him. Bob looked askance at the ceramic, back up to Jay. Jay tossed his hair over his shoulder, cocking his head.


**And what did you put in there, pretty boy?** Bob thought darkly.

*let us be it'll be all right
I got no strife I'm loving life
could you say the same
you don't have to move to groove
so come on up and see me
but leave that judge behind*

He gestured towards the resinous gunk in the cone.

"Oh, yeah, can't do that often, y'know, gums up the fuckin' works, but now and again. 'S called hash. Sweet hash*ish*, yeah..."

For a moment his eyes unfocused, drifting in memory. Then he shook himself and blinked at Bob.

"Yeah, now, remember what I showed ya." He ran through basic bong mechanics again, and Bob nodded, trying to force his toasted brain to remember each step.
"I c'n help with that," Jay said. His voice was near a whisper, and Bob looked around. Were they having to be quiet for some reason? He couldn't remember. They were alone in the apartment, right?

He heard a zipper unzip. He looked down. Dear God, it was his.

*'cause I'm loving life
we're okay reelin' in the days
we're all right we're just gettin' high
let us be it'll be all right*


"Hey, no worries, baby. 'S motivation, right? You suck on that end and I, uh, I'll suck on this one." He reached inside Bob's pants, pulling out his cock, and they both watched as it grew under his touch.

**Holy shit. He's not gonna--**

Jay lowered his mouth to the sensitive tip, and Bob almost dropped the bong. His hands shaking, he lit the cone, and went through the motions mechanically. He inhaled, and his eyes crossed, and he inhaled, and oh, fucking God, what was that madman doing with his tongue, and he inhaled, leaning back, thrusting his hips forward into the warm, wet cave of Jay's mouth.

"That's the ticket, baby," Jay mumbled around the width of him. Shit, but this was weird. He hadn't known Jay was gay. Shit, he hadn't known that would turn him on so much. He hadn't known a lot, it seemed.

Then the hash hit, and he felt each pulse beating through him like a depth charge. The stars wheeled overhead, bright whorls of glittering light, and he fell back on the couch, the bong thudding to the floor. Thankfully, it neither tipped over nor set anything on fire, but Bob was too stoned to care. That, and Jay had moved so that he lay over Bob's legs, and was sucking him in deeply.

Bob arched off the couch, moaning, and Jay's long-fingered hands played with his sweatshirt ties.

*we're okay reelin' in the days
we're all right we're just gettin' high
let us be it will be all right*

"Mmm, baby, we gotta get you *outta* these clothes," Jay murmured, kissing the length of his cock, kissing his inner thighs, making Bob moan and convulse. He staggered into a seated position, staring fixedly at the blond, who patiently began undressing him. Gentle light touches against his skin were all Jay gave him until he was completely nude, then the younger man threw his clothes to the four winds and pounced.

He climbed up Bob's prone body, moaning as their cocks thrust against each other, and both men were lost for a moment in the driving physical need to move, skin against skin. The heat of friction eased with their sweat and other fluids commingling, and Jay burrowed his head against Bob's neck, moaning, panting, gasping. Bob's hands held onto Jay for dear life, this wonderful squirming conflicted creature, and planted kisses across every inch of skin he could reach.

"Yeah, yeah, c'mon, yeah," Jay panted, bucking against Bob. "God, can't wait, wanna fuck, wanna fuck you so bad, but can't, can't, can't wait--"

Bob didn't wait, screaming at the last statement and thrusting hard against Jay, lifting him off the couch for a moment as he lathered their bellies with come. Jay, feeling the splash of wet heat, groaned deep in his throat, coming soon after, vibrating with the intensity of his bliss.

*fade to black*
*change scene*

*I'm getting stoned
and what's wrong with that
the president seems to be just fine
come on up and see me*

The next morning, Bob woke up in his own bed. It took a while to reconstruct, but he remembered the night before. Vividly, after a few moments. Just the thought of Jay's mouth on his, Jay's mouth around his cock, pulled him out of sleep and into a painful morning erection.

Shit. He shook his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes, and sat up for a moment, blinking. Okay, Honesty time.

**You *liked* what Jay did to you last night.**
*liked* what you did to him.**
**Okay, yeah.**
**You want to do more of that. Much more of that. As often as possible.**

**Say it.**

**All right, all right! I want him! You fucking satisfied now? I am apparently completely gay after one night with a blond-haired stoner!**

Well, that wasn't *entirely* true. His mind turned to thoughts of pretty little Trish the Untouchable, with whom he'd taken Honors Math in high school. And her sister, the ravishing Alyssa. And there was that set of triplets at the club the other night...

**All right, all right, so you play both sides. But right now, there's a gorgeous young man waking up the next room, and you want to lick every inch of his body five times over. This does not make you the poster boy for heterosexuality.**

He sighed, and looked down. Damn, it was going to be hell walking to the bathroom with this. He stood, shrugging into clothes, gasping when cloth grazed over the morning hard, and made his painful, limping way to the bathroom.

*come on up just know that
I'm gettin' stoned
I'm gettin' stoned
I'm gettin' stoned
I'm gettin' stoned*

Later, when he was more alert--and less aroused--he went to the kitchen, rummaging for breakfast. They had some toaster waffles, and he tossed two in, grabbing a plate, butter, maple syrup, setting everything on the breakfast bar. The waffles popped out, he flipped them to the plate, and the plate was removed by the blond who'd materialized at his shoulder.

"Thanks, dude. How 'bout some OJ?" He yawned hugely, stretching.

Blinking for a moment, Bob fought down the unreasonable surge of anger, and sighed instead, popping in two more waffles, pouring two glasses of juice, and getting another plate from the cupboard. He slid a glass of juice towards Jay, hunched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, peering blearily at him.

Something turned over in him, and he walked over to Jay, kissing him lightly on the forehead. Jay reeled back, nearly falling off the chair.

"What the *fuck*, dude? Back it *off*, man, I am not one of your butt-boys! You c'n bring 'em home if you want, but leave me *off* the fuckin' guest list!" He grabbed the plate and the glass, and stalked over to the couch, sending off nearly visible waves of outrage and indignation.

**Okay, I'm confused now.**

**Yeah, you're not the only one.**

**Maybe he doesn't remember last night?**

**Shit, how could he *not* remember last night??**

"Dude," Jay said, looking pissed. Bob looked over at him. "You gonna stand there twitching all day? Don't we have some shit to do?"

Bob just stared at him, and Jay sighed, burrowing into the couch.

"Fine, I'm all sorry an' shit, you c'n kiss me if you want. Jesus. So goddamned touchy. Now are we gonna go or what?"

Mystified, Bob sat down, reflectively eating his breakfast. He had a nagging feeling this was far from over. On the other hand, how long would it be before Jay wanted to get that stoned again?

He shuddered at the thought. He'd take another morning like this...for another night like last night. His clinical mind began to tick off plots, plans, measured doses, and that occupied him for the rest of the day. Other than the moments when he had to breathe hard through the memory of Jay's mouth, everything was normal.

But Jay's mouth. Jesus. He *had* to get him stoned again.

*we're okay reelin' in the days
we're all right we're just gettin' high
let us be it'll be all right
it'll be all right
it'll be all right*

(Song is "Stoned" by Smashmouth)
Kelandris the Mad
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