Title: Shut Up and Kiss Me
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: Dogma/View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob, Jay/Azrael
Rating: NC-17. Some graphic m/m sex.
Status: New
Archive: You must send an email to me and let me know where you intend to archive. Private archiving allowed as long as you don't intend to publish. Behave.
E-mail address for feedback: Kelandris
Series/Sequel: Inevitably, part of the Feather/Dagger/Tunnel/Mercyverse series.
Disclaimers: All characters belong to Kevin Smith and the View Askewniverse. If I really get into this, I probably will too. Or at least go into hock when I walk into a video store, go into rut, and buy all the DVDs at once.
Spoilers: for Dogma. Not that anyone here hasn't seen the film.
Notes: I still think this needs more sex. And Bob talks more than usual. How'ver. this is where the single LONGEST story arc I've ever friggin' written begins. This is the start of the Feather/Tunnel/Dagger lunacy that I still haven't managed to tie up!
Summary: Azrael thinks of an interesting way to get what he wants.
Warnings: Some graphic sex, some angst, some (emotional) pain. No one dies.
Parting Remarks: Don't mind me, I'm just sitting here, writing about sex...

"Shut Up and Kiss Me"
by Kelandris the Mad

Three weeks ago:

The doors closed with a resounding clang, even though they were made of wood. The sun shone brightly on the threesome standing in the inner courtyard of St. Michael's, staring around dazed at the bright green grass and the flowers blooming where moments before had been devastation, body parts, and a great deal of angel blood.

"So that's it," Bethany said. She still wore a dreamy look on her face, and her hands were clutched possessively around her belly.

Silent Bob shrugged, reached into his pocket and grabbed the pack of cigarettes. Flipping the top open, he looked inside, one eyebrow raising. Two remaining. He nodded once, lit one, passed it to Jay, then lit the other. Jay took the offered cig, inhaling deeply and looking around. Something white drifted past on the road and Jay walked out to see what it was.

"Huh." Jay leaned down and picked up a feather lying discarded on the road. "Hey, check it out, tubs, that hottie left somethin' here!"

"God," Bethany corrected.

"Whatever. Look!" He held the feather up, glittering in the sun, the shaft long and even and gleaming like pearl. "Flyboy feathers," he mused. He looked around, smiling like a child on Christmas. "Hey, help me find more!"

Bethany shook her head. "C'mon, guys, let's go. I want something to eat."

Bob looked around, jerked his head at his younger companion. Jay nodded, one of those full-body nods he was capable of producing.

"Hell yeah," he said. "Grab some more cigs, grab some protein for the preggo, find a motel room--" He leaned towards Bethany, his eyebrows waggling. She just smiled.

"How about instead, we find a place to eat then I go home?" Bethany turned, looking down the cross-street. "How about down there?" she said, pointing.

"You buyin'? 'Cause me and Silent Bob here, we got kinda tapped out in the strip club."

Silent Bob whacked him, and he whirled, looking hurt.

"What? Bitch, we spent a lot of money in there, and we gotta bus home, you telling me you haven't thought of that? We're not exactly flush on product, you know!"

Silent Bob just shook his head. Bethany stopped, looking at Bob, then looking at Jay. Finally she shook her head, still smiling.

"Sure, guys. Whatever you want."

"Awright, that's what I'm talkin' about!" Jay walked down the road, shadowboxing the air. Bethany exchanged a look with Silent Bob, who shrugged, took another puff on the cigarette, ground it out with a brisk movement and sauntered after Jay. She looked up at the sky for a long moment, gesturing towards the two prophets, as if to say, "See, guys? See what I'm stuck with?"

But the mood didn't last. Smiling again, she walked behind them, staring at everything as if she was seeing it for the very first time.

Two days ago:


The man in the white suit grabbed the kid at the keyboard, shaking him roughly. The kid's black eyes glared at him with hate, and there was a brief buzzing sound, as if flies were batting against an unseen window. The man released him, snarling at the room in general.

Azrael was pissed. He stalked around the room, yelling at random, picking up things and throwing them against the wall. Unfortunately, all the really breakable bits had been broken when Loki and Bartleby had not walked through the arch after all. It had taken him a solid week to figure out how to escape Hell again, and then to come back to a world unchanged, still perfectly ticking off the days in order, was infuriating. It had been the work of an hour, tops, to summon the Triplets and find a new house. Which had been promptly semi-demolished in his anger at finding out both Bartleby and Loki had died.

Bethany was no longer on the radar; someone was hiding her very well--another thing which irritated him. Probably Loki and Bartleby; it would be just like God to set them to watching the girl. And he could find the prophets, but what good would that do? They were probably being watched too, or had some other stupid blessed item just hanging around, and...Oh, it just didn't bear thinking about.

Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, and he would have to give up and go back to damnation, one of his informants had told him that one of the may-they-burn-under-his-watch *prophets* was seen carrying around an angel feather. An *angel* feather. It wasn't much, but it could be used--if he could just find the right person to get it for him, and the right person to get the spell ingredients. And he'd found her, using some resources in Hell that might come back to bite him later. Weeks of effort, weeks of spellwork, and now--as he looked at the computer screen--she had written back that she was currently 'unavailable.'

"Unavailable!" he screamed, kicking the couch. He whirled, panting, looking for more stuff to throw. The remaining Triplets cowered against the back wall.

**Best 'special investigator' the Vatican has, my ass. Unreliable, lazy, foolish -- HUMAN!**

"She takes a week to get back to me," he hissed, his small horns beginning to steam, "and then says she can't come at all. Well, *fuck* her!" He ran hands through his short, dark hair and sneered. "I've had it. So what if she's the best tracker in the business! It's not like she does commission work for demons anyway. What was I thinking? You can't trust an intermediary for work like this."

He glanced down at his three helpers, gesturing towards the wall of the living room, now bare of the bric-a-brac and lacy frames that had been there earlier.

"It's been fun, boys, but until I need you again--"

Three expressionless pairs of black eyes stared at him, then one sliced through space and time with his hockey stick, and all three slid into the glittery slash like spat seeds. Azrael nodded, rubbing his hands. He put his hat on, straightening the brim.

"Yessss," he hissed. "I'll get the damn feather myself."


It had been a good day, Bob mused. Bethany was packing up her apartment, planning on moving into the building, so he and Jay could keep an eye on her--and the new Scion. It would be decidedly different being godparents--at least of a sort. He wondered if he should get a real job, then sighed and looked around, shaking his head. He liked his job now. He liked being Muscle, he liked hanging out, and he liked the opportunity to do what he wanted, when he wanted--all things he'd lose in a traditional nine-to-five environment. Let alone the humiliation of the outfit--tie, white shirt, no trench...no chance.

He listened to Jay singing off-key in the shower for a moment, barely smiling. Then, he thought to himself, there's Jay. **Jay who would go nuts if I left him alone that long.** Jay who would probably get himself killed trying to sell in the wrong neighborhood if he wasn't along to be intimidating. Jay who...

**Who am I fooling? Jay whom I love. Jay, who I can't stand to be away from. That's 'Jay who'. Fuckin' lovesick idiot. **

He shook his head again, dropping an empty beer bottle on a black table already cluttered with them, and heard a light knock at the door.

**Bethany? But she isn't due back for--**

Shrugging, he opened the door to see Azrael.

"Sometimes the simplest ways are best," Azrael said, then cocked back his fist, swinging fast.

Fist--face--darkness. His last panicked thought was a prayer--hoping Jay would still be alive when he woke up.

Azrael quickly dragged Silent Bob inside, cursing at the weight. He walked down the hallway, hearing Jay in the bathroom, and smiled. Good, let that occupy the twit for a while. At the end of the short hallway were two doors to the right, and he kicked the nearest one open. Large bed, grey comforter, grey carpet, comics everywhere, books everywhere, computer in the corner with stacks of game boxes to one side. Azrael shrugged--it could be either Jay or Bob's room, and frankly he didn't care. He lugged Bob over to the concealed side of the bed and dumped him, stepping quickly past and back out. Nothing resembling a feather here, but he'd be back to check later if he didn't find it somewhere else.

He looked up, confused for a moment. Door out--open. Door open in room--revealing clothes, hats, some boxes shoved haphazardly on upper shelves. Door across room--closed. **Hmm. What's behind Door Number Three? **

He opened it quietly, peering around the corner. It was nearly the same arrangement--big bed, big grey comforter, grey carpet, comics everywhere. This one might be Bob's room, Azrael thought--the silent ones always read more, and this room was wall-to-wall bookshelves. And the bong on the side table beside the bed could belong to either of them. Quickly he looked around, not disturbing anything, but not seeing a feather. He snarled silently, then walked back to the living room. He began to lean forward, to start the search in here, when he paused, bent over and looking under the table. In his mind he saw the two rooms again, decorated simply in a similar style, both large, and both connected by a door. A *connecting* door. Slowly, he smiled, standing up, looking towards the back of the apartment.

**Oh, that's brilliant--and it's going to work!**

The demon heard the door to the bathroom crack open, and hurried into the kitchen. There was a bright, writhing light.

Jay pulled the towel off his head, drying the tips of his long, blond hair. He saw movement in the kitchen.

"Yeah, man, grab me a beer too while you're in there, huh?" He walked over to the couch, sat down and picked up a remote from between the beer-bottle array. He punched in five discs at random from the changer, and leaned back, closing his eyes as the music blasted all conscious thought away. After a few moments, he felt the remote being taken from his hand, and a beer put into it.

He nodded, grinning hugely, looking up at Bob.

"Shit, that's more like it, I could really learn to go for this manservant gig," he said sarcastically. "Have you do whatever the fuckin' hell I want, huh Bob?"

Bob looked at him for a moment, his eyes sparkling. They seemed nearly black in the low light and Jay frowned. Then Bob smiled, and sank to his knees, and Jay swallowed, pressing back against the couch.

Bob put one hand on each of Jay's legs, just kneeling there, looking at him. There was a long silence. Retorts spun through his head, but his mouth wouldn't work.

**Look like a fuckin' beached fish here, Jay, good one. How many fuckin' times you gonna open and close that mouth while he's watching you?**

Finally, words came. They weren't the ones he wanted.

"Uh--hey, Bob?"

"Whatever you want, Jay?" Bob said softly. It didn't sound quite like Bob's voice. Jay swallowed again, licking his lips nervously.

**Okay, this is fucking surreal. So you have these fantasies, they don't mean fuck,** he thought. **It's just, he's sittin' there waitin', and what the fuck do I do now, and...oh fuck...his hands are moving!**

Jay squirmed under the glance of those dark, dark eyes, and tried to put the bottle down. Then it struck him that he'd have to lean forward, get closer to those unnerving eyes and that unnerving half-smile and fuck, that unnerving *Bob* to do so. So he held onto the bottle, but he just knew that if those hands crept any higher--they were slowly rising above mid-thigh--he'd just drop the damn bottle anyway. Fuck. *Fuck.* This was...

"Fuck, dude, if you can't take a joke--" he said, his voice sounding strained. Bob looked up, and there were those eyes, those fuck, damn, *black* eyes, and he started trembling. Then he looked down, and Bob's hands were unzipping his pants.

"Oh God--"

"Not really," Bob said softly. He pulled apart the layer of denim, and ran a hand slowly over the shorts revealed beneath. The younger man's cock leapt at the touch and Jay squirmed, shaking his head. Bob looked up questioningly.

"You want me to...?"

**Asshole,** Jay thought angrily. **It's all I've ever wanted you to do since the moment I met you and now you have to go and make me say it, like it's all my fuckin' idea and I have seen the way you fucking look at me when you think I'm fucking not looking and damn it, damn it, you think I'm going to have any fucking answer but YES?!? Fuck you, Lunchbox!**

He jerked his head in what should have been a nod, but was more a jerky, flailing motion--up, over, down. Great. He couldn't even get a nod out right now. And then Bob was pulling down his shorts, sliding his hands around to cup the top of his ass, and his mouth was descending. It seemed to take forever, and Jay had to remember to keep breathing. Then those lips, Bob's lips, were on his cock, sliding down to suck along the shaft. Jay inhaled sharply. Bob looked up, raised an eyebrow, then swallowed him whole.

Jay couldn't breathe right. He couldn't catch his breath. His cock was between those lips he'd wanted to kiss for more years than he could count, and it was so hot, so wet, and hot, and--and--*hot*...

*"Jesus!"* he cried out, hips thrusting forward, and Bob didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to be trying to smile as his mouth wrapped pure sweet suction around Jay's shaft. Jay's eyes crossed and he sagged on the couch.

"*Fuck*, yeah, Lunchbox, yeah, Bob...oh, God *yeah*..." His hips shot forward, fucking that hot, sweet mouth, and every time he looked down, he was captured by those dark, dark eyes, falling into those eyes, drowning in them. He felt dizzy, his head spinning, and he shook his head to clear it. **What the--?**

Then Bob's arms wrapped around him, like steel bands, and threw him flat on the couch. He rose, straddling the younger man, Jay's erect cock grazing the soft sweats Bob wore. He could feel Bob's cock pressing against his, hard, hard as the hands gripping his shoulders.

"Where's the feather, Jay?" That voice, rolling over him like silk and acid, while he was pinned down by the black eyes as much as by the steely grip.

"The feather?" **What the fuck is this, now? Bob doesn't know where the fucking feather is, and he saw me bring it home...What the fuck?**

Suddenly Jay's eyes widened, and he couldn't stop a whimper from escaping his lips.

"Bob?" he said, his voice small.

The man over him smiled, leaning forward and crossing his arms on Jay's chest.

"Not exactly," he purred.

**Holy shit! He's gonna kill me. And what the hell did you do with Bob, you evil fuck?**

Then Bob--or whoever it was--leaned down and kissed him, and he stopped thinking at all.

**It's dark,** Bob thought. **It's dark, and I'm lying on the floor.** Fuck, but his jaw hurt.

"There's no time for that now," a gruff English voice said. Metatron knelt beside him, propping his head up and staring into his eyes. "You have to come with me, now. Jay's in trouble."

Bob sat up, nearly braining Metatron as he struggled to his feet.

"Where?" he asked.

Metatron gestured, walking across the room and opening the door. "Living room."

Bob ran out, cornered on one foot and skidded to a halt, looking at the couch. The Bob on the couch looked up from kissing Jay, and snarled. Jay rose to his elbows, still partially undressed, still *very* erect, as the other Bob moved into the center of the room.

"So, *prophet*, we meet again." Bob's form melted and ran from him, disappearing into the grey carpet as Azrael's token white suit coalesced and horns rose from the high forehead. With a roar of rage, Azrael leapt for Bob, who put up his fist, pulled back, and clocked the taller demon, center face. Then he stepped back, watching Jay out of the corner of his eye.

Giving one strangled sob, Jay leapt from the couch, running past them into Bob's room. Azrael snickered, and Bob pulled back again, when Metatron stepped between them.

"It's not like you can resolve this with a bout of fisticuffs, my boy." Metatron grabbed the demon, tightening his grip. "But I think we have something that will get through that thick skull..." And both disappeared, though Metatron's voice could still be heard apologizing.

"Entirely my fault--do explain it to Jay, won't you? We'll keep a better eye on you from now on."

Bob heard whimpering and walked back to Jay's room, opening the door slowly. He rubbed at the pain in his jaw from Azrael's initial punch. He just made out Jay lying on the bed in the dim light from streetlamps outside. He was saying something.

"...fuck no, just be Bob, man, just be Bob, I'm sorry I thought anything, I won't ever do it again, I don't want anything to happen, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just be Bob, okay, just be Bob..."

Over and over he was saying it, curled around himself and rocking. Bob reached out and Jay flinched away.

"Hey," he said softly. Jay looked over, one eye peering mistrustfully from behind a curtain of blond hair. His chest hitched and he looked like he was fighting back tears--then he dove for the bedside lamp.

Yellow light poured over the room, illuminating Bob standing next to the bed. It also outlined Jay, trembling on the bed, with his pants unzipped and shorts pulled down and--

Bob looked away, swallowed. **I can handle this. No big deal. He's my friend, and he's on my bed, and he's upset, and anything else will have to wait.**

Gingerly, he sat on the edge of his bad, splaying one hand on the comforter between himself and the younger man.

"Jay," he said softly. "You okay?"

Jay blinked at him, shuddering. "You--your eyes...they ain't black. They're brown."

Raising an eyebrow, Bob nodded. Why the color of his eyes suddenly mattered...Then he remembered Azrael. He opened his mouth--to say what he never remembered--and Jay leapt from the bed. Their bodies connected and both went down, Jay nearly knocking him out again as he exuberantly pinned him to the floor and hugged him.

"You're Bob, you're Bob, yourebobyourebobyourebob!" Jay said over and over. When he ran out of energy, he just lay against Bob, panting, his head curled against Bob's neck.

"Fuck, man, I was scared out there," he whispered. "Thank God you're back, thank God it's you, thank God..."

Right about then Bob realized two things: Jay was laying on him, hugging him like he'd never stop--and Jay's pants were still down.

And Jay was still hard.

**Okay, I can do this. This is no problem. Jay is my friend and Jay is upset and Jay is--**

Bob breathed out shakily. **Jay is really, really hard.** He tried to shift a bit, give Jay some time to realize where he was, and their hips met. Jay's hard cock grazed his through two layers of clothing, and he was afraid to move. No, he was afraid if he moved, he wouldn't stop. He'd strip out of his sweats and shorts and move Jay back to the bed and flip his legs up and--**Fuck,** he thought. **Now what?** He couldn't seem to breathe. Jay lifted his head.

"Dude," Jay said softly. "You...uh...?"

**Fuck,** Bob thought again. **So much for the friendship.** And he leaned forward, capturing Jay's mouth with his. Jay tensed, shivering, and Bob closed his eyes, unwilling to see disappointment in those sparkling blue orbs. But oh, man, this was the answer to so many midnight sessions--fuck, forget midnight sessions, how about morning and midafternoon? This was feeding some part of his soul he'd managed to close off, and it felt wonderful: Jay laying on him, pressing against him, Jay's mouth on his, Jay's hands in his hair...

**Wait. Go back. Jay's hands in my hair?** He stopped and pulled back, looking up at Jay.

"Don't stop," the younger man moaned, his hips starting to move against Bob's. One hand dove between them, pulling back the layers of the trench, the sweatshirt he wore underneath, unzipped, reaching the t-shirt underneath that.

"Fuck, man, we have *got* to get you out of these clothes and shit!" Jay leaned in closer, licking Bob's neck, and Bob closed his eyes, reeling. Jay licked and sucked and kissed up the neck to Bob's ears, which weren't that sensitive, but the fact that Jay was licking them was making him shudder.

"C'mon, Bob, c'mon," Jay said, rolling off the man lying prone on the floor. "Fun as this is, you gotta help me. I want some nakedidity!"

Blinking, Bob sat up, shrugging out of his trench and leaving it on the floor for once. He stood and Jay started pulling clothes off, throwing them everywhere. Sweatshirt, back onto the chair behind him. T-shirt thrown back on the bed. Sweatpants, shucked down Bob's sturdy legs. Shorts pulled down halfway--then Jay looked down.

"Fuckin' a, man, you're hung!" He glanced up, sheepish and nervous at the same time. "Oh, man, it's too good, I gotta, you gotta let me, I hafta--hold on, wait right there." And Jay sank to his knees.

Jay pulled Bob's shorts off the rest of the way, running his fingers through the hair on Bob's upper thighs and making him shiver. He lifted one of Bob's legs and Bob kicked off his shorts, his head spinning. He couldn't seem to get his thoughts to run in one place long enough to figure out *what* he was thinking. Then Jay--

He hissed in air, gasping, as Jay licked along his shaft, reaching one hand underneath to softly fondle his sac, making Bob gasp again.

"Mmm," he said softly. Then, with one nervous glance up at the dark-haired man, he licked up to the head of Bob's cock, then took him in his mouth for the first time. Slowly, he circled his tongue around the head, licking up the drops of pre-cum from the fluttering slit. Bob groaned above him.

"Jay, I--I have to lay down, my knees are gonna buckle..."

Jay looked up, letting Bob's luscious cock leave his lips.

"Uh, so the fat man does talk," he said, smiling. "Say somethin' else." He ran his fingertips down the length of the shaft and back again, before gripping him in his fist, pumping his cock a few times for effect.

"Jay, please," Bob moaned. He leaned over, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up. Savagely he kissed him, plunging his tongue into Jay's willing mouth, hearing the younger man whimper. He walked him to the bed, nearly throwing him down, and knelt beside him. Then one eyebrow quirked, and he knelt carefully, sliding off the end of the bed and pulling Jay down to the edge, parting his legs in the same moment. He leaned forward, taking Jay in his mouth, and Jay's back arched off the bed.

Then Jay looked down and froze. It was too similar, that dark-haired head bobbing on his cock. He gasped, tensing, tears starting in his eyes again. Bob looked up, concerned, and realized what was going through Jay's mind. Instantly he was off the floor, folding Jay into his arms, kissing his face, his lips, his cheeks, his neck.

"Jay, I'm here," he said. "Jay, it's me, I'm here, I'm Bob. You're safe." He held him until the trembling stopped, and Jay pulled back, looking at him.

"Yeah," Jay said. "Yeah, I just forgot there for a moment, you know? When that horned bitch had me...Man, all I could think of was how much I wanted it to be you, and it wasn't."

Bob gulped, looking at him. The young blond grinned shakily. "Shit, man, like you never fucking knew."

Bob swallowed, half-shrugging.

"I didn't."

Jay shook his head, laughing.

"Shut the fuck up, Lunchbox, and kiss me."

END *************
Kelandris the Mad
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