|FIC: Side of a Square
||[Jul. 27th, 2010|06:39 pm]
Jay & Silent Bob Slash: True Love 'n' Shit
Title: Side of a Square
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: It's pretty PG
Disclaimer: I don't own any one, any names, any titles or any thing in Kevin Smith's View Askewniverse. I'm not profiting from this at all.
Note: I apologize to anyone who's seeing my bullshit posts in like three different places right now. I forgot how complicated it is posting fic.
It had been a long time coming but there'd never been the consciousness to recognize it. Prepare for it.
There was this hair on his jacket, long and blond and threaded through a button hole.
So he called up his father and asked him how to get over a girl you'd never get to marry because she was already there with someone else. Like garlic to an Italian heart and whiskey to an Irish soul, vodka had been his prescription. Bob hung up, sighed, and made himself a tuna sandwich instead.
There was consolation in the fact that the owner of that hair was in St. Louis with all the rest in his head and he took his jacket to the drycleaners. After he'd paid for them to strip it of scent, he was furious to find that with the thing hanging off his closet door, he still smelled Jay in the middle of the night. He only realized it was his fault when he rolled over, stuffed his face in the pillow and pulled in cigarettes and Montreal and him.
Brodie had invited him with, to Canada. Toted Bluntman and Chronic to the franchise meeting with him and spent the rest of the time skateboarding in the new franchise manager's empty pool with Jay. Silent Bob had looked on and gone to restaurants and seen the sights and gone on back home with the next trip to the airport.
The skating was not new, it's just that a year after the start of sobriety, Jay found his balance came back without drugs in his system. When he wasn't off from city to city with Brodie Bruce for franchise meetings he was off with Justice, of course. Justice who, straight out of her parole hearing, had been given a job by a Swiss security company, breaking into and remodeling chain jewelry stores.
Her hair, these days, was dyed brown and cut to a sensible, business bob and off somewhere attached to her own head, too. Thankfully, usually, far away. And through the careful equations of days and weeks, Jay would switch off to another plane and another city and accompany his girlfriend to New York, Seattle, Las Vegas, Miami, or as far as Munich and Kingston. Skating. Seeing the world. Brodie would be called off to L.A. and Jay'd go, too.
The apartment they'd once shared had gone to a single father and his son and daughter. Silent Bob had stopped by once to see.
His own place was nowhere nearby their old stomping grounds. His job, even farther than that. Strip clubs and suburbs tend to be on opposite sides of town.
And so this time for the trip to Montreal, he'd gotten off work and set some kid up doing the bouncing gig for a week while he watched Jay and Brodie skate the city and sat up late nights, crammed onto a bed with Jay, Cheetos and sodas between them, watching favorite movies, forgetting what it used to be like.
Staring at this hair on his jacket, he was again haunted by that horrible hotel-room-feeling that things had moved on.
Oh, he knew they had. There was some young piece of him no longer there, a terrified edgy feeling had replaced it, full force, warning that he'd never find a girl to fill in the other role that this suburban home dictated a man should have. So he spent hours at work, doing his job and then counseling the girls through their breakups and insecurities. (A time well spent, he thought, and a task particularly cut out for him as the dancers barely needed much but an ear to rattle to and a warm smile to soothe.)
And when Jay was home, in Jersey, for a week or two, he'd never see him.
Jay and Justice had found their own place, an apartment near a bustling city center that Silent Bob never felt contained enough air for more than two people to breathe at once. He never visited.
He went out of his way not to be there, in fact. Went out of his way to cast an eye over their old haunts. Went out of his way to cover the odd hour or two of work at the Quick Stop when Randal was being Randal and Dante was being a husband for two.
But it occurred to him, having coffee in his jacket the next day, that all of this was so far behind him and beyond him that maybe he should take a cue from the rest of reality and move away, shove off and never return just to find a new normal. What always was could never be again and being sad about it made him feel like a fucking child. And that was all.
He took off his jacket, threw back his coffee and went to work.
When he came home he curled on his sofa, clutched the thing and nearly soaked the lining of it in tears. He called Jay. Whose phone was off. He didn't leave a message.
It was a Thursday again before he forgot he'd ever been angsting in the first place and just simply missed Jay, but felt a lingering foolishness about not calling for weeks, then calling and hanging up. He didn't call again, instead commuted and got paid, got invited for drinks and went to sip coffee, got invited to one of the girl's going-away parties and decided to go.
He bought a tray of cookies on the cheap the day before but decided to cook some giant lasagna to bring. And after the pre-heating and before he could close the oven door, there was a knock.
It took him long enough to stow the oven mitts and meander over to the door that, through the peep-hole, he could see his caller had already started walking back down to the street.
And it was Jay.
Who paused and turned and looked back up to the house when he heard the front door whine open behind him.
He stuffed his keys back in his pocket and returned to the porch. He pushed his falling sleeves back above his elbows and Bob only watched him glowing yellow in the summer heat.
"Hey, you called me," Jay said, sort of curious.
Bob frowned. "Yeah. Like on Monday."
Well, it was like,… he didn't leave a message and he hadn't tried calling since. He was trying to not think, that was all, about all that he was losing to years that now drifted off behind him.
"We were in Baltimore, I mean, fuck, I miss you," Jay blurted before leaping around Silent Bob's neck like a cat, fingers clawing to grip wads of fabric at his back, patience in such less supply.
As he brought Jay inside and fed him for the millionth time and listened to him for the millionth hour he felt more like life had, indeed, moved on. And that it was alright because it didn't need that old kind of stability anyway, the former haunts and repeated offences. The more things change the more they stay the same. He pulled a long, gold hair from a couch cushion days later and accepted a plane ticket to San Diego.
He found a too-small t-shirt in his laundry in August and followed them to Dallas. He smelled cigarettes and video games on his overnight bag in September and drove out to meet Jay in the City. Getting off a plane in October he found that Jay had switched out their sim cards and didn't get his back until November, the trip to London.
And so it went. Like it had been before, it was imperfect and wonderful. And on another day, another summer, there was simply an envelope, a plane ticket, Jay's scrawl on the back of a 365 Joke-a-Day calendar page. "Yeah yeah. Here is a sign. See you Friday."