Title: Wear it So Well
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, Clerks era
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: Songfic. PG-13 for language. Briefest hints of homosexuality, nothing explicit.
Status: posted to the site 8 October 2004
Archive: Drop me a note and it's yours. And on that note...
Feedback: Kelandris
Series/Sequels: Actually, this might spawn a second story, but nothing past that.
Disclaimers: All parts of my fannish being are enriched by the presence of Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, Jason Lee, Ben Affleck, and all the merry characters at View Askew Productions (including their current master, Miramax,) save for that pesky financial part of my being, which receives no compensation whatsoever for these tawdry little tales.
Notes: Jonesing for Laser Tag, I had to have it, I had to drag the boys into the arena. I don't care. I may not be able to afford to play for a while, so I'll play virtually.
Summary: Bob watches Jay. No, I'm serious. Really thin plot.
Warnings: Lame excuse to use a song and to mention Laser Tag. Jay and Randal portrayed less adversarially than usual. Language. Nothing else.

"Wear it So Well"
by Kelandris the Mad

Thin man dancing, by the side of the building. Thin man whirling, hair flying out behind him, dancing in a hooded grey sweatshirt and cut-off black sweats, Doc Martins shining dully under peripheral light.

Shorter man standing in the shadows, watching him with hooded eyes and a deep affection few saw, and fewer understood. The drumbeat pulverized the air, and soon the doors of one of the two businesses in this lot would open, and there would be yelling and threats. Or someone would step forward from the shadows across the street, asking for something they would be only too happy to sell.

But for now, the shorter man simply got to watch the taller man dance. He watched the blond hair flail the night and smiled. Yeah. It was a good night.

*all of those stories, honey, that I know you could tell
yeah, you wear it so well
and your face hides it, so we can't tell
that you knew, we would wear it so well
you wear it so well*

A few moments were all he received from the universe, then it was back to business as usual. Three customers in quick succession, exchanging money for small plastic bags of herbal intoxicant, all parties watching through the corners of their eyes to make sure no one would interrupt them during the transaction. One of the men opened a door, scowling around the edge of it, yelling at them to turn the music down. The shorter man complied, but only after the man shut the door.

The taller man walked over to the shorter. He lifted one of his hands, checking the time, then let the hand drop.

"Dude, it's ten. You wanna party, or you wanna get our asses home?"

*all of the things, that make poets sing
yeah, you wear it so well, yeah
you hide it so well*

The shorter man thought, pulling the leather trench close, pulling the collar up.

"Home," he said softly. His voice was soft, distinct, and the taller man was entranced, listening to the echo that one word made in the still air. Then he shook his head vigorously.

"Silent *Bob*" he said emphatically. "You are fuckin' *slippin'*, man. I ask you a question and you fuckin' *answer* me and shit, what is up with *that?*"

Bob shrugged, amused. He watched the blond look around, scanning the lot for any possible customer, waiting shyly in the wings, and saw no one. Bob picked up the radio, and they began to walk towards the bus stop.

*yeah, darling, you wear it so well
yeah, now, baby, now, you wear it so well*

The same door that had opened earlier opened again, the same blond head poked out.

"Hey! Jay!" yelled the man.

"Randal, what the fuck is it now?"

"We still on for Saturday?"

Jay's expression changed in an instant from irritation to excitement. Bob looked from Jay to Randal, intrigued. He hadn't heard this.

*and all of the pain, that you used to tell
you hide it so well
can't tell from your face that you knew it so well
hey, now, that you have such a story to tell*

Jay quirked one side of his mouth up, looking at him.

"Laser tag, dude. I am gonna whip his pale ass *brutal*, man. I am gonna *own* that fuck!" He stopped mid-chortle, looking from one man to another.

"Hey," he yelled. "C'n Silent Bob come?" He looked sideways at Bob, grinning. "We might have to park his tubby ass on one of the towers, but he ain't never played. Could be fun."

"What the hell. Bring 'im along. We'll kick his ass too."

"Yeah, you and thirty of your boyfriends, dude!"

Randal made some rude noise, flipping Jay off, then waved at them both, ducking back in the store. Jay began excitedly talking about everything he was going to do during the game, how the game was played, what he was going to wear, how badly he was going to beat Randal and his friends.

*yeah, you got style and grace
and you wear it so well, you wear it so well
and you got, you got such a story to tell*

The one-sided conversation went on until they got home, until the door was closed behind them and they were both on the couch, beers in hand. Then Jay looked up, face unshuttered at last. Bob saw old pain, fresh joy, hope paired with expectation of denial; all the things that made up the private side of Jay. Not speaking now, he curled his feet under him, laying his head against Bob's shoulder. Bob stroked his hair, holding him.

After a moment, he grabbed the remote, starting the CD player cycling through the five disks in the changer. He could not, at this moment, remember which five they were, but it didn't matter. He was home, and safe, and his beloved was in his arms. That was all he needed.

*yeah, you wear it so well
and you got such a story to tell
oooh, you wear it so well ...*

(Excerpts of Lou Reed's "You Wear it Well" used.)
Kelandris the Mad
set me free and I will follow

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