Scorpio's Constellation of Fanfic | home
Habit
Scorpio
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a study in *why* Jay & Bob work so well together when they are polar opposites. I have no knowledge of what canon says their history/past might be like, so please don't think that I'm working with anything other than the random crap that rattles around in my warped little mind.
STORY NOTES: This story will flip-flop back and forth from the present to the past. I will denote this by writing out ~present~ and ~flashback~ at the beginning of each section. Also, I am working on the assumption that Bob and Jay are currently aged somewhere between 24 and 25 years old.
~~~
*
Bigger you give
Bigger you get
We're boss at denial
But best at forget
*
I kill you once
I kill you again
We're starving and crude
Welcome my friends to
The little things that kill
"Little Things" ~ Bush
~~~
~present~
Bob carefully made his way through the endlessly shifting crowd of bodies, painfully aware of his large size and the strength of his muscled body. He had no qualms about physically hurting somebody that was threatening one of his own, or if that person attacked him first, but he didn't want to accidentally injure some party-goer just because they happened to be walking past him at the wrong time.
Pressing himself to one side of the narrow hallway to let a tiny waisted girl slip past him, Bob finally reached the backroom where Jay was holding court before setting up shop to sell the weed they were both holding. As was normal, he could hear the loud blonde before he could see him. It sounded like he was enjoying arguing ethics in street economics with Tony "fidget" Pelmetti.
"Dude, I'm *tellin'* you straight out. A person does what they have ta do. Bottom line. Ethics ain't shit when your fuckin' gut is wrapped around your god damn spine cause you ain't seen a crumb of food for three fuckin' days. *Trust* me on this man. I *know* what I'm fuckin' sayin'."
"No way. Maybe *you* would sink that low Jay, but most people, *sane* people, would just suck it up and *ask for help*, you know what I'm sayin'?"
Bob heard Jay snort in vaguely controlled disgust.
"Tony man... you're either blind or stupid. Which the fuck is it? Go ahead... ask for help if you want, but I'm tellin' ya, you'll just get shit on. People don't give a fuck unless it fucks up their ability to watch the game on the tube or interrupts their dinner. Or if they' been there themselves at one time and then it's because they *understand*."
Bob gritted his teeth and hurried forward before Jay's big mouth and his opinions got his ass kicked. It wasn't that Bob didn't agree with Jay. He did. He just didn't inflict his beliefs on others. Like Jay did.
Sliding up to stand next to the big chair Jay was sitting in, he leaned down slightly and handed him a beer. Jay snagged it and offered up a twist to his lips that was almost, but not quite, a smile.
"Thanks Lunchbox. Took ya long enough though. Thought you got lost or somethin'. 'Bout ready to send out an expedition to see if you'd stolen the keg an ran off with it or some shit."
Bob flashed him a quick grin and pulled two smokes out of his pack of cigarettes and lit them. He handed one to Jay and popped the other between his own lips.
Tony suddenly stood up and Bob had to force himself not to tense up his muscles while shifting closer to hover protectively over Jay. He wasn't able to stop his eyes from narrowing into an intense stare designed to track movement and determine which direction the guy was heading before he actually got there. It didn't really matter anyway. Jay was probably the only person in the room who realized how close to the razors edge of violence he was always at. Ready to fly into a whirlwind of danger and pain at a seconds notice.
Tony stepped closer and leaned over slightly to whisper at Bob. He made sure that, outwardly at least, he seemed impassive and calm, but Jay knew better. He knew how much Bob didn't like people getting into his personal space. Out of the corner of his eye, Bob noted that Jay held his beer, his lighter, his pot and his rolling papers in his hands. He was ready to bolt out of the way if Bob broke down and punched Tony in the head.
"Silent Bob, dude. I don't know *how* you do it."
Bob didn't answer. He merely raised up one eyebrow and made a vague gesture in the air with one hand. Encouraged, Tony jerked his chin in Jay's direction and continued.
"Put up with *him*. He's so fuckin' cynical and... I guess jaded. I mean, he's over there trying to tell me that everything is for sale... even people's principles. He also seems to be under the impression that people are just sitting around waiting to be broken. Like we're all just toys or some shit like that. I mean... how can you stand to be around someone with a shitty attitude like that?"
Bob almost grinned. He offered up a non-committal shrug instead.
"Habit."
Tony grinned back at him, amused. Then he grew serious again.
"Well, you might want to talk to him about it. I mean, I know he tries to seem like this big bad an' all, but what does *he* know about sufferin'? I mean, he keeps tryin' to pass it off like he's had it *so* bad. Ya know?"
Bob's eyes went flat and hard, but Tony didn't seem to notice.
"Yeah. Our childhood was fuckin' paradise. Go away now."
Tony looked offended.
"Fuck you too man."
He turned and stomped away, his spine stiff with indignation.
~flashback~
October, 1982
Bobby glanced around the archway into the living room, trying hard not to look like he was on the verge of misbehaving. A wash of relief swept over him, almost making him slightly dizzy when he noticed that his dad was still in the bathroom. Quickly, he ducked back into the kitchen and opened up the old dented yellow refrigerator.
Reaching in, he quickly yanked open the vegetable drawer and pulled out the remaining half of his lunch. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich that he had saved and then wrapped in tin foil. Closing the drawer and then the refrigerator door, he turned and grabbed one of the wooden chairs tucked up under the small kitchen table. Sliding it over by the tiny counter, he climbed up on it and opened the cabinet door. Reaching in, he quickly grabbed an unopened cool-aid packet and slid out a slim wax paper sealed roll of crackers.
Jumping off of the chair, Bobby slid it back in place and then quickly stuffed his loot inside his battered backpack alongside his Spiderman comic books and his new Aerosmith cassette tape. Making sure everything was nestled inside safely, he quickly zipped his backpack closed.
Suddenly, in the quiet of the apartment, Bobby heard the toilet flush. A rush of panic laced fear sizzled through him and he flinched slightly. He hadn't been quick enough! Sucking in a deep breath for courage and steeling himself for another confrontation, he hitched his pack up over one arm and onto his shoulder. It rested against an aching bruise, but he knew better than to fidget or complain. That only made it worse *next* time. And there was *always* a next time.
Mentally crossing his fingers for luck, Bobby walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. He headed straight for the front door. He watched it get closer and closer even as he heard his dad's heavy footsteps coming down the hall. He was *so* close, he felt *sure* he would make it out the door before his old man spotted him.
A large heavy hand grabbed him by his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He bit down on his lips to prevent a terrified squeak from escaping.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going, you little shit?"
Trying not to tremble or show any fear, Bobby turned around and stared up and the large heavy framed man with the dark hair and dark eyes that was the bane of his existence.
"Uh... was just going downstairs to Jay's. Mom said it was okay as long as I didn't forget my key this time. I *promise* I won't wake you up in the middle of the night by ringing the bell this time. *Honest*!"
Bobby watched a look of utter disgust twist his father's features even as the hand clamped on his shoulder began to squeeze painfully. He bit back a wince.
"I don't know what the hell you see in that kid. His mom's a dirty fuckin' whore and he's just some John's get. I thought I was raising you better than that?"
"But he's my friend!"
Bobby knew the instant those words left his mouth that it was a mistake. He flinched.
"Don't talk back to me you stupid fuck! I made you and I can break you! And you'll do as I say!"
He saw the backside of his father's fist coming. He *knew* it would hurt, but he was still unprepared for the blinding *pain* that slammed into him when that fist connected with his cheek. One minute, he was staring up into his father's enraged face, the next, agony blossomed across his temple and cheekbone and the world was spinning and churning. Then suddenly, he slammed into something *hard* against his sore bruised ribs and the world jerked into place once more.
Somewhere in the distance, Bobby heard a pain filled moan dissolve into a choked sob and realized it was coming from him. His head spinning and throbbing from the blow, he cracked open one eye to find that he was slumped on the floor beside the big overstuffed blue chair and his father was hovering over him, glaring. He winced and flinched again. His father's glare shifted to one of utter disgust.
"You wuss! Get out of my sight. Get out!"
Not bothering to argue, Bobby scrambled to his feet, dashed to the door and yanked it open. Slamming it shut behind him, he ran. Down the hall, around the corner and down the two flights of stairs to Jay's floor. Grabbing onto the rusty metal railing and using it to fling himself around the corner, Bobby kept on running until he reached the paint-chipped door to 205.
Breathing heavily and trying not to let the tears pooled in his dark eyes spill down his cheeks, Bobby dropped his gaze to the floor and raised one fist. He banged on the door hard.
"Jay! Let me in!"
He could hear AC/DC playing somewhere within the apartment and the vague muffled sounds of a woman's high-pitched voice. Then suddenly, the door in front of him was yanked open and he was staring into the bright eyes of his best friend. Jay.
His short blonde hair was uncombed and dirty and his clothes were worn and secondhand. He was painfully thin and underfed looking, but he was the best thing that Bobby had seen all day.
"Bobby man, you look like shit."
One thin dirty hand reached up towards his face, but didn't quite touch. He was sure the whole side of his face was bright red and it was sure to fade into a deep ugly bruise. Already he could feel his eye swelling shut. A single tear escaped at the look of frustrated anger and concerned sympathy in his best friend's eyes.
"Doesn't hurt."
Jay offered up a sad knowing smile.
"I know Bobby. I know. Come on in. Let's get some ice for that. Kay?"
Bobby nodded his head and walked across the threshold and into Jay's living room. Turning his head slightly so that he could see out of his remaining good eye, he noticed Jay's mom. Her name was really Elizabeth Rose, but everyone just called her Liz.
Liz was flopped across the ugly old secondhand couch wearing nothing but a wrinkled up t-shirt that was pulled up to just bellow her breasts and white bikini underwear. Her eyes were open, but unfocused, and she was giggling softly to herself. Bobby jerked a thumb in her general direction.
"What the fuck is Liz on this time?"
Jay cringed and shrugged.
"Who the hell knows? I *think* she's on some sort of trip. LSD maybe? I didn't see her take it, so I'm not sure. Went off to walk Mrs. Carter's dogs and found her like this when I got home."
Jay shrugged again as if to dismiss his mom as the topic of conversation. Bobby didn't mind. He knew all about Liz and he knew that Jay didn't like to talk about her. He got enough crap from the neighborhood kids about being the son of a drug- addicted prostitute that it was a touchy subject.
Bobby understood. It was sort of how he didn't like to talk about his dad's drinking and the things that man did to him and his mom. People would always ask him about his assortment of bruises, but they never liked the answers. Bobby had learned long ago never to tell the truth... and so had Jay.
Silently, he watched as Jay dragged a chair over to the refrigerator and climbed up on it. When he yanked open the freezer door, Bobby could see that there was nothing in there except for ice trays and bottles of booze. He knew from his own house that certain types of liquor and shots stored and drank best when chilled.
Ignoring the alcohol, Jay grabbed a handful of ice and hopped off of the chair. He quickly wrapped them up in a worn and stained dishtowel. He was good at it... he had lots of practice patching Bobby up. Turning, he handed the wrapped ice to Bobby.
Bobby grabbed the ice in one hand and wiggled his backpack off of his shoulder and handed it over to Jay. Gingerly, he placed the ice over his swollen eye and winced at the chilled contact. A new flare of pain ricocheted through his skull, but he had long since learned to ignore physical pain. Instead, he watched as Jay unzipped his backpack and pulled out the half sandwich and the crackers. A delighted grin lit up his face.
"Cool! And the Lunchbox comes through *again*! Bobby man, you are the *best*! I'm so fuckin' hungry I could scream. I haven't eaten anything all day. Well... unless you count the lollypop that Mrs. Carter gave me. I can't *wait* till Saturday when she pays me man. We are completely out of food and Liz keeps forgetting to pick some up."
Bobby sat down across from Jay at the rickety kitchen table, wincing as he tried to find a position that didn't irritate his sore ribs. He has a sneaky suspicion that one of them might be cracked again. Holding the icepack to his swollen eye, he just sat back and watched while Jay scarffed down the food he had managed to sneak out of his apartment. He resolutely didn't think about what would happen to both him and Jay if his father ever found out that he was sneaking food to his friend.
Suddenly, Jay looked up and offered him a real grin around a mouthful of PB&J.
"Bobby, I don't know what I'd do without you man."
Bobby returned his smile.
"Same here Jay. Same here."
~~~~
All I really wanna say
I can't define
It's love I need but
My soul will have to wait
"Santeria" ~ Sublime
~~~
~present~
Bob was pulled from his thoughts by a light nudge to his arm. Glancing around and down he saw Jay smirking up at him and holding out a fresh beer.
"Yo Lunchbox! You in there dude? You're like, fuckin' zonin' out on me and shit. Channeling Liz? Here. Loose the empty, dude. You obviously need another, man. Fuckin' space case."
Bob took the full beer and handed over the empty. Without missing a beat, Jay turned around to face the others in the room and began to babble at high speed once again. Bob listened for a quick moment, then tuned it out. It was a rant that he had heard before. Several times, in fact.
He took a long draw on the golden liquid in his hand, then felt a presence slid up alongside him. He stiffened slightly and turned to face the newest threat. He relaxed slightly when he recognized Chrissy. The girl was a bit dizzy, but she was essentially harmless if you discounted all of her gossiping.
She offered him up a charming smile and he nodded at her in acknowledgement. Encouraged, she steeped in closer and rested a well manicured hand on his arm and glanced pointedly at Jay and smirked.
"I swear Bob. That Jay *never* shuts up. I don't think I've ever run into him when he wasn't talking at Warp Speed."
She laughed lightly and with no trace of cruelty or censure. He felt himself grin in agreement of her statement. She shook her head softly in mock wonder.
"What *I* don't get is how you put up with it all the time. I'd think you're ears would fall off havin' to live with that chatter-box."
He chuckled softly and shrugged.
"Habit."
She laughed again and squeezed his arm lightly before turning to walk away into the crowd. With one last grin in her direction, Bob turned his attention back to Jay and his thoughts darkened as memory returned.
He knew that his friend hadn't always been so talky. He knew that Jay's chatterbox ways were a force of habit for him. What's more, he could *vividly* recall *why* his friend got so used to doing all of the talking.
~flashback~
May, 1985
The pain wasn't as bad now. Just a dull throbbing ache that encircled his entire neck, from the skin on top all the way through the middle to his damaged larynx. He still couldn't speak, but the doctors assured him that as soon as he was healed up, he would be able to talk again. But for now... he was silent. Jay talked for him.
No one else could even come close to figuring out what it was he tried to convey using nothing more than vague gestures and facial expressions. Certainly not his mother. She had spent the last few years trying to shelter him from his father, to help him with school, to keep the family from self destructing, but she was too caught up in her own guilt and pain to do more than simply go through the motions of being a parent anymore.
His grandmother lived in the neighborhood, but she was too confused and angry to be of much constructive help. She was too old and inflexible to relate to an abused boy. However, she did go out of her way to make sure that there was plenty of food in the house and that the clothes were washed and the floors were swept. She even fed Jay without question. Bob loved and adored her for what she tried to do, but it was Jay who was his rock. His shelter. His lifeline.
It was Jay, in fact, who had saved his life. The dirty underfed boy who had been his best friend since forever had just happened to be in the hallway when it happened. Jay said that when he knocked, no one answered and he got scared. So... he'd picked the lock on the front door and snuck inside Bob's apartment. Bob knew that he'd be forever grateful that Jay did that.
When his friend had finally pushed through Bob's partially open bedroom door, it had been to find Bob lying back on his bed struggling weakly as his own father strangled him. Bob's mother lay in a crumpled heap in the corner of the room. Not pausing to think things through, Jay had picked up Bob's baseball bat and slammed it onto the back of Bob's dad's head. The large man had dropped to the floor in an unconscious pile of dirty flannel and alcohol fumes.
Then he had screamed for help at the top of his lungs.
The only person in the entire run-down apartment building who bothered to check out what all the screaming was about was an older teen boy who lived across the hall. It was him who called the cops and the ambulance.
Now, it was two weeks later and Bob was at home with a damaged throat, a mom who was a step or so beyond being semi-catatonic and a best friend who had to do all of his talking for him.
And a Social Worker.
Personally, Bob figured that Ms. Clare Thompson wasn't that bad a person. The fact that she was from Child Services was... disturbing. Nothing good ever came about from Child Services. After all, if Child Services had any real grasp of what the world was like, why hadn't they taken Jay from his mother when he was born? Bob was glad that Jay had been around to be his best friend, but he'd never forgive Child Services for letting Liz keep him.
Down deep, Bob knew that they never should have let a street prostitute who had given birth to a cocaine addicted baby walk out of the hospital with her infant. But Liz had and no one had ever stopped by to make sure she was staying clean, which she wasn't, and that Jay was in a good environment, which he wasn't.
However, Ms. Thompson wasn't here about Jay or his crazy drugged-out mom. No. She was here about Bob and his abusive drunk of a homicidal dad.
"Well, Bob. I've got some news for you about your father. The sentencing came today, as you know, and I'm happy to say that he *will* be going to prison for what he did to you and your mom."
Bob exchanged a look with Jay.
"Silent Bob says 'Good. Let the bastard rot behind bars forever.' And I agree. He's a real shit."
Ms. Thompson pursed her lips and her eyebrows drew down into a frown. Tilting her head, she glared at him over the tops of her green plastic framed glasses.
"I'll thank you not to use that sort of language young man. Or I'll have to ask you to leave."
Bob didn't say anything to that, because he couldn't, but he *did* respond. Silently, but without trying to hide what he was doing, he reached out with one hand and grabbed Jay's. Carefully and with great deliberation, he entwined their fingers together. And then squeezed lightly, once. Jay smiled.
"Silent Bob says, 'No. I get to stay.' Besides lady, how the hell you expect to talk to him if you don't got no translator?"
Ms. Thompson's eyes narrowed slightly and her lips drew down into an even tighter line, but she didn't argue the point.
"Fine. Let's just... watch the profanity, hmmm?"
Bob exchanged another look with Jay. This time it was a conspiratorial grin. Then Ms. Thompson cleared her throat loudly and she continued with her pompous little speech.
"Anyway, as I was saying. Your father has been sentenced to a prison term of several years. The courts agreed to allow your mother to keep custody of you as long as she continues to follow up on the counseling program that has been set up for her."
Bob didn't know whether to grin or grimace. The threat that he might get bounced into the system of foster care homes was a frightening one. He knew a large number of kids in foster homes. Not a single one of them was happy with the situation. Some were pretty well off, and many were just on this side of being neglected, but it wasn't... *home*.
On the other hand, Jay's mom had been "forced" into drug counseling in order to keep Jay and she'd quit after two sessions. No one ever bothered to check up on her, so no one had found out.
It was... unsettling. He had never really known security or stability. His father's violent tendencies made sure of that. But at least his dad had been a well-known and predictable source of angst and disruption. The fact that his future was dependant on the whims of a handful of strangers was not a pleasant thought.
Somehow, Jay must have known that he was bothered, because suddenly the thin boy was sliding across his bed to sit right next to him. Hands held, thighs and arms touching, Jay turned his head to whisper in his ear.
"Don't worry about it Lunchbox. I won't let her steal you from me."
Bob felt the shy grin spread across his face. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried. Gently squeezing his friend's hand, he basked in the knowledge that, Jay at least, wanted him. Wanted him enough to fight for him.
~~~
Like disco lemonade
I smell sex and candy here
"Sex and Candy" ~ Marcy Playground
~~~
~present~
Bob was knocked out of his thoughts with a sharp elbow to the hip. Glaring down, he saw Jay smirking up at him with one hand held out palm up.
"What the fuck's the matter with your fuckin' hearing you tubby bitch? I *said* to give me the god damned *scale* you fat fuck."
Bob let one eyebrow raise up towards his hairline while his other eye narrowed down to a slit. Jay's smirk melted into an expression of innocence. Well... as close to innocent as Jay *could* get. With a surge of inner willpower, Bob resisted the urge to smile at his friend as he silently waited. And waited. And...
"Fine!"
Jay's voice was an exasperated snarl.
"Be like that Lunchbox. Fuckin' slut... *Please* give me the cocksmokin' mother fuckin' god damned piss assed scale. You freaky shit."
Deadpan, Bob nodded solemnly and then reached one large hand into an inside pocket of his leather duster and pulled out a small metal hanging scale. With great dignity, he handed it over to his hyperactive friend.
"Bitch."
Bob's lips twitched and his eyes sparkled, but he didn't smile. Instead, he watched as Jay sighed, rolled his eyes and then turned away to face his customer.
The thin blonde quickly set the scale for a dime bag and then began to measure it out, at first by eye, and then he adjusted the amount of greenbud as per the scale. Finally, it was all set and he unhooked the bag from the scale, rolled it up like a blunt, licked the edge and sealed it air-tight. Then he handed it over to the buyer. Only to be scowled at. Bob tensed up all over.
"What'cha lookin' at pussy?"
The young guy snorted and waved a vague gesture at Jay, the scale, and the neatly stacked fold of money in Jay's hand.
"You man. I'm looking at you. Measure that count out to the exact. Like I'd cheat you or somethin'. Counting out the money in my face like that. Fuck dude. That sucks. Speaking of sucking, why don't you suck on my dick... pussy?"
Bob didn't hesitate. Deal or no deal, customer or no customer, he didn't put up with that shit. Someone was gonna get their head ripped the hell off and then used as a soccer ball. But one of Jay's thin arms flew out and blocked his path. He paused, waiting.
"Twenty bucks, you fuck."
The young guy blinked in confusion.
"What?"
"Twenty bucks. You want me to suck your cock, your gotta pay."
The guy blinked again and then a smirk lit up his face. He started to reach into the pocket that he'd stuffed his money and Bob took a step forward and *growled*. The guy looked up at him and Bob watched his face drain of all color. Instead of taking Jay up on his offer, he grabbed his weed, stood up, and then took off.
He was feeling pretty good about himself for chasing the skeez off, but his good mood evaporated when Jay swung his head around to glare up at him again.
"Wha'cha do that for Bitch? That was twenty fuckin' bucks that you just scared the fuck away. What the hell?"
Bob felt trapped for a moment, caught between sorrow and anger. Sorrow for Jay and anger at Liz. He sighed.
"We don't need the money that bad Jay."
Jay's expression clearly showed that he thought Bob was a stupid lunatic, but he didn't want to get into this. Not here, not now. He turned to walk away.
"I'm gettin' another beer. Want one?"
He didn't bother to wait for an answer. Before he got to the doorway that led to the hall, he was stopped by Mark Benson.
"Silent Bob... how in the *hell* do you put up with that slut? He's a petty thief, a drug dealer and a part time whore. I mean... how can you stand livin' with that?"
Bob shrugged, certain that his eyes carried too much sadness and hurt, but unable to hide it.
"Habit."
Then, pushing past the taller man, Bob walked away in search of the beer.
~flashback~
February 18, 1989
Bob stuffed his Algebra book, the fancy calculator that Jay had stolen for him, a couple of pencils, his notebook, a bag of Doritos and a small stack of comic books into his backpack and headed for his apartment front door. He and Jay were supposed to study tonight for the test tomorrow. Ninth grade sucked, but failing algebra and having to repeat the grade would suck even more.
He slid past the tranquilizer queen he called mom without a word spoken between them and jogged down the hall and down the stairs and around the corner until he reached Jay's door. He pounded on it swiftly and it was opened right away. By Liz. Bob blinked in surprise and looked up.
"Good. Maybe *you* can get that piece of shit outta the god damned funk he's been in all fuckin' day. Little wuss."
She twisted a bit so that she was facing towards Jay's room and yelled so that Jay would be sure to hear her.
"Little stuck up punk needs to grow up and realize that no one *gives a shit*! It's all about the *money* not the *pride*!"
Confused, but not bothering to waste time trying to talk to Liz, Bob slid past her and dashed across the apartment and yanked open Jay's bedroom door. And stopped dead.
The room was dark. The lights were all off and his shade was pulled down tight. Taking a moment to let his eyes adjust, Bob let his backpack slide off of his shoulder and hit the ground with a soft muted thud. Then he glanced around.
At first, he couldn't find Jay, but then he saw him. A crumpled up form huddled in the darkest corner of the small dirty room. A soft sobbing and snuffling sound carried across the still air.
Not stopping to think, Bob gave vent to a low cry of fear and dashed across the room, dropping to his knees in front of his best friend. Instinctively, he reached out to pull Jay to him, but Jay pulled back, slapping at his hands and scrunching as far into the corner as he could.
"No! No! Don't' *touch* me. No!"
As if he'd been burned, Bob snatched his hand back. Searching with his eyes, Bob could easily see that Jay had been crying for a long time. His eyes were bright red and swollen and his skin was flushed and patchy. His nose was runny and he sounded out of breath as he tried to stifle his sobs. Tremors wracked his thin frame and Bob could see mute evidence of physical violence and abuse in the form of bruises and scrapes. He took a deep breath to calm his suddenly jangling nerves.
"Jay?... Jay, it's Bob. It's okay now, it's just me and you know I won't hurt you. What?... What happened?"
"Bob?"
Bob offered a soft smile as his friend peered up at him from behind long tangled blonde bangs.
"Yeah Jay. It's me."
"Oh thank god!"
Suddenly, in a startlingly fast move, Jay launched himself out of his corner and latched onto Bob as if he'd disappear if Jay didn't squeeze with all of his strength. Thin arms wrapped around his neck and long lean legs around his waist, Jay literally sat in his lap, buried his face in Bob's dark hair and began to sob quietly.
Confused and frightened, Bob wrapped his own arms around his friend's body and just held on. Jay trembled and shook with the force of his tears and still Bob held onto him. Jay curled his hands into fists, pulling and twisting Bob's shirt, and still he held on. Finally, Jay tipped back his head and let loose with a wordless note of pain and sorrow. And still Bob merely held him tight, offering him silent support and comfort, loyalty and love.
Then, after a time, Jay began to grow calm. His tears dried and the tremors lessened. He didn't lift his head from the safety of Bob's shoulder, but Bob didn't mind. He just rubbed soothing circles against Jay's narrow back. When Jay finally spoke, his voice was rough and husky from his crying and it was whispered soft, full of anger and shame.
"Some... god damned *sick fuck* paid Liz money for the privilege of fuckin' me Bob. She said yes and took the money. I... I *tried* to tell him NO... to make him just... go away and leave me alone, but... He was so strong and I just... I just..."
Jay started sobbing again. Softly this time. Bob just held him tighter, not even noticing the tears that had begun to fall down his own cheeks.
"She said it was 'bout time I earned my keep. She wants me to start sellin' Bob. Drugs, my ass... whatever will bring in the most cold hard cash."
Bob shuddered in horror. He knew all about that chick Janice down on Cover and Vine and how she'd been gang-raped, but he never heard of a guy being raped before. On the other hand, Liz *did* get money out of it, but still, *Jay* said NO. Did that still count? Bob wasn't sure. All he *was* sure about was that his friend was hurting. Hurting and angry and scared. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.
"I don't wanna do that again Bob. But... I know I will. She'll *make* me do it. Gods! What am I gonna do?"
"I don't know Jay. I just don't know."
Jay's crying slowly tapered off until he fell asleep in Bob's arms. He didn't care, he continued to hold his friend all night long.
Somehow, Algebra didn't seem so important anymore.
~~~
I alone am the one
You don't know you need
Take heed feed your ego
Make me blind
When your eyes close
Sink when you get close
Tie me to the bedpost
"Inside Out" ~ Eve 6
~~~
~present~
Carefully maneuvering back into the smoky back room, Bob was slowly letting his internal temperature cool down. No one could get under his skin faster and deeper than Jay, but then again, he wasn't able to forgive anyone else for such a trespass. With Jay, there wasn't anything to forgive, it was just a matter of a few deep breaths, a cold beer, and a couple of minutes to step away from mad.
He had taken in some fresh air, he was holding a cold brew and somewhere along the way, he'd left mad behind him. Once again, Bob was feeling mellow and laid back. All he wanted was to be within visual range of Jay. Line of sight. But the crowd here at Mitch's house party was tightly packed into the cramped space.
Squeezing past a tall girl in a low cut sweater and intimidating his way past a scruffy looking guy in faded flannel, Bob soon found himself back in the area where Jay was holding court. But the King Dope Head wasn't sitting on the tattered couch that he had been using as a throne.
Eyes dark eyes sliding into narrow slits, Bob scanned the room. Pushing through the last row of people, Bob instantly found his best friend. It wasn't that hard. All eyes were drawn to the far corner of the room where some punk Bob didn't recognize had backed Jay up into a corner.
Distantly, Bob heard a low angry growling noise and a part of his mind recognized that it was coming from his own throat. Without even bothering to ask, Bob turned slightly and shoved the two beers he was holding into the hands of the person standing next to him, then he turned back to face the scene that was making him see red and began to stalk across the room.
"You better back the *fuck* off you stupid dickless funk-breath or I'm gonna sic Silent Bob on your ass and you'll be learnin' a whole *new* definition for the word *pain*. You stupid ugly fuck."
"What the hell is a Silent Bob you brainless stoner? Am I supposed to be frightened? Ooooo! I'm *shakin'*!"
The punk with the dingy red hair and the cropped leather jacket reached out with one hand and shoved Jay up against the wall. Hard.
"You fuckin' *bitch*!"
Jay pulled back one thin arm, his hand curled into a fist that he was about ready to let fly. He never got the chance.
Bob reached out with his large left hand and clamped it tightly around the back of the punk's neck. He yanked him back so that the leather jacket was pressed to his chest and growled in his ear.
"Mine!"
Then, with the punk still held fast in his grip, he twisted slightly to the side of Jay and *thrust* his arm out straight, *slamming* the red-head face first into the wall. Bob's right hand curled into a large meaty fist and *pow* *pow* *pow* he pummeled the punk's kidneys.
Then, releasing his grip on the guy's neck, Bob spun him around to face him and his fist came up in a powerful right hook *pop* to land dead center on the punk's nose. Blood gushed out over Bob's hand and the red-head let loose with a god-awful wail of pain.
The guy crumpled to the ground, his face cradled in his hands as he peered up fearfully through tear filled eyes. Jay stepped over and bent down to smirk into the guy's face.
"*That's* Silent Bob. And yeah, you *should* be afraid. *Very* afraid."
Then, Jay stood up tall, shifted his weight, and kicked the guy in the side of the head with one boot clad foot. The punk dropped to the floor unconscious.
Suddenly, the crowd surged forward, excited chatter erupting around them and Bob only had time to share a brief glance with Jay before the blonde was swept back to the couch on a wave of babbling stoners.
A soft grin slid across his lips as he watched his best friend begin to tell his tale to everyone, even though they had all been right here to witness it first hand. And of course, Bob's role would be exaggerated as always, and Jay's role would be stretched until the truth snapped in half, but Bob didn't care. Jay was safe, happy and he had done his job.
His smile faded away again and he turned and looked down at the crumpled red-head. Bending over, he reached out and curled his thick fingers into the red curls and made a tight fist. Using the guy's hair as a handle, Bob began to drag him out of the room, down the hall and to the front door where he'd dump him in the building's parking lot.
His frown deepening, Bob felt his thoughts slip back in time. Back to when he hadn't gotten there fast enough. Back to the time he had failed. Failed utterly.
~flashback~
September 3, 1991
It had been a long hard day. His feet hurt, his back hurt and his arms hurt, but it didn't matter. Despite the fact that he was tired, sweaty and worn out, he felt... good. Productive. Worthwhile. Like a man.
He was just getting off shift at his job. A *real* job. One that paid fairly good money. In cash. He wasn't old enough to work legally and pay taxes and stuff like that. But 'ol Sancho didn't care none about that minor fact. He needed warm bodies at the warehouse to help out with the influx of shipments. Bob needed cash to make the rent.
So, they'd struck a deal. He offloaded boxes until his arms about fell off and at the end of the week he walked away with a stack of greenbacks in his pocket. It was a good deal. Both sides got what they wanted. Sancho got his inventory moved and Bob paid the bills.
He covered his mom's rent, bought food for his apartment, paid up the phone and utilities. Hell, he'd even had enough left over to buy Jay food and to cover part of his rent too. For the past four months that Bob had been workin' his ass off at the warehouse, Jay had been able to stay off of his knees in the back alleys. And *that* was what made all the aches and pains worth it.
Bob was hungry and tired. He only had two more days until the weekend, and while that thought was a good one, all he wanted right now was dinner and then Jay. The tall lanky blonde had taken to giving him long wonderful back rubs while they laid out on the floor in front of the TV watchin' sitcoms and smokin' pot. It was the perfect way to wind up the end of a long day. And Bob couldn't wait.
Turning the corner onto his street, his mind firmly entrenched in a daydream about Jay's long strong fingers rubbing the skin of his back, he was brought up short by the bright red and blue flashing lights. He saw two Police Cruisers and an Ambulance. While it wasn't *that* unusual a sight in his rundown and shabby neighborhood, the thing that sent a sliver of ice cold fear down deep into his gut was the fact that they were parked right outside of the rent-control apartment building that he and Jay lived in.
"...oh god no..."
His weariness banished by a rush of panicked adrenalin, Bob broke into a full out run towards the front door that led into the building and dashed up the stairs. Fear a lead ball in his stomach, Bob was halfway up the numerous flights of steps when he was brought up short by a sight he'd hoped he'd never ever see again.
His father.
The man seemed older and thinner than he had when Bob was just a child, and his hair was longer than ever before, but there was a lot about the man that was just the same. His dark eyes were still cruel and his lips were still twisted into a hard smirk of maniacal hatred.
And just like the last time Bob had seen him, he was being led out with his hands cuffed behind his back and a uniformed Police Officer on either side of him holding on tight.
Then, his father looked up and saw him. A slight pause as Bob watched a flitter of emotion wash over his cragged face until it finally shifted into recognition and then into a cruel and heartless smirk of satisfaction.
"Well, well, well... If it isn't the little shit? You're too late boy. I fuckin' *killed* her this time and I beat the fuck outta that fag-assed *boy*friend of yours that you've been droolin' over since you were still in your god-damned pampers. Now. Wha'cha gonna do about it? Hmmm..."
A horror filled wail rent the air and then Bob was body-slamming his father past the cops and into the brick wall behind. They went down onto the steps in a crash, Bob on top. Someone was still yelling their lungs out, but Bob didn't pay any attention to it, he was too busy pounding his clenched fists into his father's body.
"I *hate* you! I *hate* you! I *hate* you!"
Suddenly, there were hands. Large strong hands, pulling him up and away from the man who had terrorized him his entire childhood. Away from the man who had nearly strangled him to death years ago. He fought those hands, wanting nothing more than to beat that hated face until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp.
"Bob! Stop! Please Bob! Don't make them take you away!"
That strained voice broke through his battle-rage like a hot knife through butter. Instantly, sanity returned and he grew still and stopped fighting off the cops. Turning his head to look up the stairs, Bob's eyes locked onto Jay.
He best friend was swaying on his feet and one arm was wrapped around his torso as if to shelter and protect his ribcage. His right cheek was a blossom of purple tinged red and his lower lip was split and swollen. He'd obviously taken a horrible beating.
A knot of guilt and sorrow slammed into him.
Jay looked like *he* had after going a round or two with his father back before the shit had been carted off to prison. The old man had been right. Bob had arrived too late. He should have been there. If not to stop it, then to suffer as well.
"Jay... oh gods... *Jay*."
With a quick tug-yank, Bob found himself free of the hold the cops had on him and he dashed past his crumpled and moaning father and up towards Jay. With a low cry, he wrapped his arms around the thin boy and swept him up into his arms and held him tightly, his tear streaked face buried in long blonde hair.
"So sorry... *so* fuckin' sorry Jay."
Jay began to tremble violently in his arms and Bob was sure he was squeezing too tight for Jay's ribs to be comfortable, but he wasn't willing to let go. For that matter, Jay had just as tight a hold on him as he had on the blonde. Finally, Jay's normally strong and loud voice cracked and whispered into his ear a litany of horror and pain.
"Fuck Bob... it was *so* fucked. I mean, there I am downstairs blastin' some Metallica and then... then fuckin' Liz walks in and says... she says that she heard Mom up here screamin' and cryin' and shit. And I'm like, 'what the fuck?' so I come runnin' up to see what the hell's up and..."
Bob felt a shiver race down his spine as Jay's story was interrupted by a handful of E.M.T.'s with a sheet covered stretcher come around the corner of the stairwell. Jay buried his face in Bob's neck and he could feel his friend's hot tears splash on his skin and his trembling grow more pronounced. Even though the sheet was pulled up to cover the face of the body, Bob recognized the shape. It was his mom. He clutched Jay tighter to him and moaned a low deep sound of pure pain and loss.
"I *swear* I tried to save Mom! I *swear*! But... but... he was too strong Bob, and so fuckin' pissed at the world and at her... and I just... I... I'm *so* fuckin' sorry man... *so* fuckin' sorry."
"...no... shhh... it's over... I'm here now..."
Bob pulled his only remaining family as tight to him as he could even as he realized his words were a little too little and a little too late. He should have been there. He should have known that something was wrong. He should have...
Burying his face back into Jay's blonde hair and letting his tears flow free, Bob swore he'd never be too far away to protect what was his again. In the morning, he'd take Jay with him when he went to Sancho to explain that he couldn't work in the warehouse, unless Jay could hang out there too. If he couldn't find a job where Jay could be with him, then he'd find some other way to make money. He wouldn't let something like this happen again.
He fucked up and his mom was dead. He wouldn't fuck up again and lose Jay too. No fuckin' way. He'd *kill* first.
~~~
In between us
Good and evil wait
To lie beside us
In our bed that we made
"In Between" ~ Collective Soul
~~~
~present~
After dumping the punk outside, Bob had stewed for a while. But eventually his anger died away again. He had waited patiently and silently in the background as Jay made a few more deals and then began giving "let's get out of here" signals to Jay. The blonde caught them all, but he didn't say anything out loud. He merely nodded his head slightly and began to pack away his money and his dope. With vast amounts of crowd manipulation skill hidden under layers of crudity and wild vulgarities, Jay wound down his end of the conversation and turned it back on itself between three other people in the room.
He followed Jay back out through the crowd towards the front door, led onwards by a trail of blonde hair, curse words and shouted goodbyes. Finally, they were outside, the cool night air rushing into smoky dry lungs. It felt great. Invigorating.
Three blocks to the bus stop. Twenty minutes through twisting dark streets and then another five and a half blocks to their apartment. Home at last.
They had a pattern they followed after coming in late from a party when they were both tired and stoned. They didn't deviate from it tonight. Bob went right for the kitchen to throw together a late night snack for two while Jay hopped in the shower. As soon as the tall lanky blonde was out, he jumped in.
While he was paying homage to the Shampoo Gods, Jay was out in the main room woffing down a ham and cheese on rye and one last cold beer. It was a good system. It was efficient, quick and they both could do it under the influence of the strongest drugs.
Soon enough, they had both gotten clean, eaten and dressed in nothing more than the warm air on clean naked skin. Then, almost as one, they climbed into bed together and began the nightly scramble for their respective share of the blankets.
"Move *over* Lunchbox! Damn blanket hog..."
A sharp tug from under his ass made a grin slide across his lips even as he shifted his hips so that Jay could pull the edge of the blanket out from underneath him. As soon as it was free Bob laid down on his back on his side of the bed, head on pillow and his arm flung out wide.
As usual, Jay shifted and twisted and turned. The pillow was fluffed, the blanket was adjusted, his knees shifted, then shifted back. The blanket was adjusted and tugged once more and then Jay turned over completely and the pattern of tugging and fluffing started up again.
Finally, with a sigh, Jay rolled over so that his head was resting against Bob's shoulder and his arm was wrapped around Bob's waist. Then, a few minor blanket adjustments was followed by a knee being thrust between his thick thighs. Then Jay sighed in comfortable happiness.
Bob wrapped the arm he had held out around Jay's shoulders and pulled him in even closer so that the blonde's body was literally draped over his own. Jay responded by snuggling down further and squeezing his waist.
"Silent Bob?"
Bob ran the palm of his hand down the silky damp length of Jay's long hair.
"Hmmm?"
"How the fuck do you put up with me? I mean, you like, sleep like a rock an all... but I'm a twitchy fuck if I ever saw one. Don't you ever just wanna toss my ass off the bed and onto the floor?"
Bob chuckled silently, his chest rumbling gently even as he shook his head no.
"No... you stay where you are. Got that?"
"Yeah, but... I mean, how can you stand it? I'd be flippin' if I had to put up with that shit."
Bob grinned in the dark.
"Habit."
"Habit?"
Jay leaned up on his elbow to mock glare down at Bob. The darkness took a little out of the effect, but Bob didn't let it go to waste. He reached up with his hand and gently hooked it around the back of Jay's neck and tugged him down for a gentle kiss. When their lips parted, Bob smiled up at his best friend.
"Yeah... Habit. Don't you know by now that you're my drug of choice?"
~flashback~
December, 1994
This would be the fourth Christmas since Mom had been killed and the second since Liz had O.D.'d on a bad batch of heroin. It was both easier and harder.
Money, the crux of their, and everyone else's existence, was harder to come by, but there was less to buy. Liz, while full of connections, spent money like it had been going out of style. Drugs, clothes, booze. Half the time, she spent more than she earned. Without her to throw money away, it was a bit easier. However, she also wasn't around to pull in any cash.
Food was also different now. Mom had been a quiet, withdrawn and timid woman who never offered an opinion about anything, nor did she try to even pretend to care what Bob and Jay got themselves into, but she *had* fed them. And fed them well. She buried her pain and anger at life by cooking. It was her only joy. Now that she was gone, that left the boys to feed themselves. Takeout was expensive, and neither had yet managed to put together a meal that didn't taste burnt or underdone.
Still, all trivialities aside, they still had each other. Jay brought money in by selling drugs. Weed usually, the harder stuff occasionally. Bob just stood there and looked mean. It kept people afraid to cheat Jay... or mug him. About once or twice a week, they knocked over some store or home. Sancho, Bob's old boss from back in the day, had branched out. He was now fencing goods through his warehouse and he had a soft spot for Bob and Jay and the cash was always good.
Every now and then, though, shit got tight and money was scarce. That's when Jay would hit the streets to practice the skills that Liz had forced him to learn when he was just a little kid. Bob *hated* those times more than anything. He hated pimping for Jay, yet he hated it even worse when Jay went out alone. Guys tried to work him over without Bob there to screen and intimidate the Johns. But most of all, he hated the way Jay hated himself afterwards. Jay never came out and *said* it, but sometimes actions spoke louder than words.
But that was neither here nor there. Right now, all that mattered was Jay. An upset and depressed Jay. A Jay who didn't want to even acknowledge the holiday, let alone celebrate it.
Bob had come back to the tiny apartment with the Chinese takeout to find Jay staring out the window to gaze sightlessly out at the back alley with a lost and lonely look etched onto his normally mobile face, a beer in one hand, a blunt in the other. His shoulders were slumped and he looked... defeated. Regret radiated from him.
Pain, mingled with compassion, burned a path through Bob's core as he took in the sight of his oldest and dearest friend suffering silently and alone in his own head. Moving quickly and quietly, Bob put the food down on the cluttered kitchen table and slid out of his leather jacket.
After hanging up his coat, he slid into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. Then, silent as his name proclaimed, he sidled up alongside Jay and allowed his dark gaze to drift over his thin form before peering out into the gloom of the evening. He didn't speak, he just allowed the solid weight of his presence to fill the space, the warmth of his body to soak into his best friend's awareness.
Eventually, Jay sucked in a deep breath and then let it out in a soft sigh. Slowly, as if he no longer had the strength to stand on his own, Jay leaned back against Bob's chest, his head tilted slightly so that their temples touched. And still, Bob waited for Jay to speak first. After a long pause, he did.
"Ya know... I've got more fuckin' experience and knowledge in the sexual arena than 90% of the people in this whole god-damn neighborhood. I've fucked, been fucked, sucked and been sucked. I've done it all and had it all done back to me. I'm a street whore, born and bred. Knees in the gutter, head in the clouds."
Bob gave an internal flinch at the self-loathing in Jay's voice. Yet he knew that those harsh tones and haunted eyes didn't even come close to exposing the full picture of Jay's true feelings. Just the tip of the iceberg was visible here.
Bob understood. Every time Bob wasn't fast enough or strong enough to keep some asshole from slamming a fist into Jay's body Bob felt as if he had failed. Every time they ended up with too much month at the end of the money and Jay was forced to his knees for a twenty cut Bob's soul. Every time he saw a 'Help Wanted' sign, he was torn in two. Get the job and have a reliable steady income and risk not being there when Jay needed his presence to stay alive... or walk on past and risk that Jay will have to sell his soul along with his body once again.
Each time it happened, he died a little inside. He would go to any lengths to protect Jay. He would cheerfully kill for his friend. In fact, he *had* killed for him and Bob was determined that Jay would never find out about that... but the real problem was... *what* was the right thing to do? What could he do that would protect Jay *forever*?
Bob was pulled from his swirling inner thoughts by Jay's voice. It was bitter and sad and oh so softly whispered that it seemed to almost meld with the darkness around them.
"Ya want to know the worst fuckin' part of all this Lunchbox? The worst of it is, with all the fucked up shit I've done and seen, I've *never* had anyone make love to me. It's all about cock or pussy or just getting your rocks off as fast as possible. It's never been about feelin' good and lettin' go and just... *Fuck*! Listen to me... Shit. I sound like some fuckin' whiny assed *girl*!"
A bitter snort of derision ruffled the hair hanging down the side of Bob's neck.
"Love! Ain't that just so fuckin' pathetic? The little whore-boy wants *love*... God. Just... kill me now, huh?"
Bob's heart clenched in his chest and a low moan of deeply buried frustration and longing escaped his mouth. With a shudder, he wrapped his arms tightly around Jay's body and pulled his back tight to his broad chest and tucked his face into the golden strands of silky hair that hung long down Jay's back.
"Wha?... Lunchbox? What the fuck?"
"You *are* loved Jay. *I* love you... always have, always will."
Bob could feel Jay's shoulder and back muscles tense up even as slight trembles began to wrack his thin frame.
"What the fuck? You *love* me? Why the *hell* didn't you *say* something before you fuckin' shit! *Why*!"
A low sob caught in his throat and his squeezed Jay tighter to him.
"I can *still* remember when we were thirteen and Liz had set you up to be raped by that... that... *fuckin'* perv shit-head and then holdin' you all night while you cried yourself to sleep in my arms. Swore then and there that I'd *never* hurt you like that. *Never*. So... kept my fuckin' mouth shut. Till now."
Instantly, Jay's tense muscles relaxed into a boneless sprawl in Bob's arms. With a slight wiggle, he turned himself around so that they were face to face. Bob felt his head cradled in two long fingered hands and his face was tipped up, forcing him to look into Jay's teary eyes.
"Sometimes you are so *fuckin'* dense. I swear Silent Bob, I sometimes wonder how people could think that *you're* the smart one. You idiot! There's a *world* of fuckin' difference between a hurt thirteen year old boy and an eighteen year old man who's seen too much shit far too young. Ya know? Fuck, Silent Bob, you couldn't hurt me if you tried. It's just not *inside* you to hurt me."
Bob blinked. Confusion and hope and fear swirled and whirled in his head until he felt light-headed and dizzy. So, he did the only thing he could do.
"I love you Jay."
With a low cry and a half-sob, Jay flung his arms around Bob and buried his face in Bob's thick dark hair. Little shivers traveled up and down his spine, shaking his whole body lightly.
"Love you too, you stupid shit."
Then, he pulled back and looked right into Bob's eyes and Bob swore he saw forever looking back at him.
"Make love to me? Let me... let me see how good it *can* be. Just... love me."
A single tear slipped down Bob's cheek, but he ignored it, instead, he leaned forward and up until his lips brushed against Jay's lightly. Soft warm lips, breathy air on his cheek, slim arms sliding around his neck, chest pressed to his own. Bob felt as if a heavy iron claw that had held his heart and soul in bondage unclenched, and he was finally set free to soar among the clouds.
With a soft sigh of happiness, Jay broke off the tender kiss and leaned back. Reaching down, he grasped one of Bob's large hands in one of his and turned. A light tug and then Bob was following as Jay led him off towards the bedroom. A slow happy smile formed across his face. He knew that this was just the beginning. He'd have the rest of his life to spend loving his sweet Jay.
~~~
Let's swim to the moon/uh huh
Let's climb through the tide
Penetrate the evenin' that the
City sleeps to hide...
"Moonlight Drive" ~ Jim Morrison
~~~
~present~
Jay grinned down at Bob. A pleased and humorous look etched onto those beloved features. A light giggle echoed in the darkened bedroom before Jay viciously clamped down on it.
"I'm your favorite drug, huh? That's... weird Silent Bob. *Very*... fuckin' bizarre. But hey, to each his own, right?"
Bob just grinned up at him while his hand traced slow circular patterns on Jay's naked back. Jay wiggled a bit closer and shifted a bit so that he was more on top of Bob then next to him.
"Well bitch... prepare to get *stoned* then. I'm gonna rock you till you drop. Got that?"
Bob waggled his eyebrows up and down and let a lecherous look cross his face. It lasted for less than a minute and then both of them broke up in soft laughter.
"Crazy whack-job. You're lucky I love you so fuckin' much."
Bob's smile melted into a look of adoration and admiration spiced with a heavy dose of possessiveness.
"Yeah. I know. Love you too."
Then Jay leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips, his tongue sliding out of his mouth to lick lightly against Bob's lips. With a husky moan of longing and desire, Bob opened up his mouth under the gentle assault. Taste exploded on his tongue. Weed, cigarettes, ham and cheese sandwich, beer and under it all, that indescribable taste that was simply... Jay.
Chills raced across his skin and he was suddenly *hungry* for his lover. Needed him, wanted him, felt the overwhelming urge to *claim* him and mark him as *Bob's* and no one else's.
He ran his hand up Jay's spine until he could grab a fistful of blonde curls and then deepened the kiss. Jay let loose a little moan deep in his throat and Bob reached out with his free hand and pulled the thin man up on top of him so that his lithe body was draped all along Bob's broader thicker one.
Jay wiggled a bit and then spread his thighs wide so that each of his legs hung over the side of Bob's body and then ran down the outside length of his own legs. Chest to chest, hips to hips, half hard cock nestled against half hard cock, warm balls resting on balls, it was Bob's favorite way to lay. It was sexy, warm, tender and so intimate that it made his heart swell in his chest.
Jay bent his head down and kissed him again, his long soft hair falling around them like a silk curtain, creating a world that included Bob and Jay and no one and nothing else. Bob opened up his mouth and let his hunger and desire and passion for the exquisite creature sprawled across him express itself in his kiss.
Tongue stroking tongue, swirling in one hot wet mouth and then the other, they battled for dominance and control. Jay began to wiggle slightly on top of him and Bob felt his mind be distracted for a quick minute, but he soon wrestled Jay's mouth into submission. He always did.
Jay put up a pretense of taking control, of being the top each and every time, but Bob knew down deep, Jay didn't *want* to be the top. He wanted and needed Bob to take control, to hold him, protect him, to love him and pleasure him... and ultimately, to claim him. To prove to Jay that he was *worthy* of Bob's love. To prove to Jay that he *was* wanted and needed and loved.
And in the silence of his soul, Bob *needed*to do this for Jay just as badly.
With a twist and a flex of powerful back and leg muscles, Bob flipped them both over so that Jay was laying flat on his back with Bob on top of him. Jay's eyes opened wide in surprise briefly, but then his shock melted into a smug smile of pure happiness and his long lean legs came up to wrap tightly around Bob's thick waist.
With a grin lighting up his eyes, Bob hooked his forearms up under Jay's shoulders so that his hands could cradle the blonde's head, even as his own weight rested on his elbows and not his lover. Tipping his head lower, he captured Jay's mouth in another kiss.
Heat blossomed in his groin and rolled up his spine and down his legs to his toes. Jay wiggled and writhed under him, sending tingles and sizzles of pleasure along the plains of his skin. He devoured Jay's hot mouth even as he felt his cock fill and lengthen.
Jay's arms came up around him and his long fingers lightly swept up and down Bob's back, leaving trails of ghostfire and goosebumps along his sensitized flesh. He couldn't suppress the shudder of pleasure they caused.
Jay tightened his legs, pulling their groins tightly together and Bob gasped as his cock rubbed along the length of its hard throbbing mate. Jay moaned a needy sexy sound and thrust his hips up again. Bob growled and dove down for another hungry kiss and grinded his own hips down against his best friend, his lover,... his Jay.
Once, twice, three times. Then he broke the kiss with a gasp and pulled back. Carefully, but quickly sliding his arms out from underneath Jay, Bob pushed himself up on his hands and knees with Jay still lying sprawled out wantonly below him.
He was beautiful. Fucking beautiful.
Sitting up on his heels, Bob allowed himself to look at his lover, taking in the long lean limbs, the smooth pale skin, the long glossy hair, the rock hard and drooling cock. He loved this man more than anyone or anything else in the entire world.
Reaching out with one slightly shaking hand, Bob ran his fingertips along that expanse of delightful skin from Jay's collarbone down to his hip. Then, he repeated the gesture with both hands. Jay was so responsive to each gentle and tender touch. He arched into it as if begging for more and he mewled and whined deep in his throat as if he had no words to describe the sensation. Bob was enthralled.
He petted and stroked chest and hip, thigh and stomach, arms and face. Finally, with Jay practically shivering in need and his moans interspersed with whimpers, Bob allowed his hands to travel down to Jay's throbbing and purple cock. Jay responded by instantly thrusting against his hands, desperately trying to deepen the fleeting contact.
"Yes! Bob... *please*"
Bob lightly stroked the heated column of flesh for another few seconds before he shifted his position slightly so that he could bend down and run his tongue along the underside of Jay's cock.
The taste of pure unadulterated *Jay* exploded along his taste buds and his mouth began to water even as his ears dimly registered a litany of begging and encouragement coming from the other end of the bed. Suddenly finding that he was as desperately wanting and hungry as Jay was, Bob swirled his tongue around the crown of Jay's cock, delighting in the salty taste of the pre-come that dribbled endlessly from the slit on the tip.
Not being able to hold off any longer, Bob opened his mouth wide and swallowed Jay down. He slid his lips up and down the shaft once, twice, three times and then he relaxed his throat and swallowed him to his root.
"Aaahhh! Shit! *Bob*!"
Bob swallowed down the first hot thick mouthful of Jay's come and then pulled off of his lover's cock and began to pump him with his thick fist, milking him for every last drop. Jay lay there, limbs twitching, eyes rolled back in his head, cock spitting out long ropey lines of sperm along Bob's hand and his own stomach and thighs.
Leaning forward, Bob caught his weight on one hand while the other dragged itself through the puddles of come, coating the fingers, soaking them with Jay's essence. Then, he tipped his head down further and caught Jay's mouth in a kiss.
Jay's tongue delved into his mouth and swirled around, twining itself with Bob's own. Jay writhed and moaned into the kiss, every line of his body, every wanton movement, screamed to Bob of love and gratitude and hope and longing and an odd sort of vulnerability of the heart. Once more, for the nine-millionth time, Bob found himself falling in love with Jay all over again.
Still locked deep in a kiss with his lover, Bob's fingers slowly traveled down Jay's hip, over his thigh, under his balls, and along the smooth sensitive perineum. Jay gasped into his mouth and his body trembled even as he spread his legs wider and tilted his hips up, silently offering himself to Bob.
Lowering his fingers even further, Bob teased the outside of Jay's opening, swirling and circling his fingertip around it, brushing over it, but not penetrating it. Jay's hips twitched and Bob broke off the kiss, gasping, and then dipping his head back down to nibble and lick along the long pale length of Jay's throat.
Jay tilted his head to give Bob better access and his hips began to thrust back onto Bob's fingers, trying to impale himself on the thick digits. Little breathy whimpers and moans caressed the air and Bob's neglected cock throbbed angrily.
"...please please... Bob... need you... please..."
Finally, Bob stopped teasing the grasping and fluttering opening to Jay's body and carefully slid one thick finger past the slight ring of resistance. Instantly it was engulfed in tight wet heat and his cock jerked with jealous sympathy.
Gently, Bob began to thrust his finger in and out, slowly loosening muscles and sensitizing the tissues. Moaning softly, Jay pushed back against him, trying to draw Bob deeper. Loosing his ability to remain passive and ultra controlled, Bob drew his finger out only to replace it with two. Working carefully, Bob scissored his fingers, stretching Jay's channel, coating it with the hot wet seed, preparing it for *him*.
Bob could feel the trembles that wracked Jay's body against his own and as he licked and nibbled down to his chest. He took one stiff nipple into his mouth and nipped it hard. Jay gasped and arched his back, but Bob laved it with his tongue, soothing and caressing it, even as he worked his fingers in and out of Jay's writhing begging body.
"Bob... *please* now, please now..."
That soft breathy plea was more than he could stand. Pressing one last kiss to the smooth skin under him, Bob pushed himself back up onto his knees. Carefully, he slid his fingers out of Jay to the accompaniment of a whimper of protest and then coated his own throbbing cock with the last of Jay's come. Glancing down at his love, he saw that Jay was hard again and he was writhing in hunger and desire.
Pulling Jay's hips up onto his lap as he kneeled between the blonde's wide flung thighs, Bob took care to line up his cock against Jay's twitching opening. When his cockhead pressed against Jay' flesh, he almost came right then from the *heat* that poured off of his lover's body.
Swallowing hard and clamping down tight on his control, Bob pushed forward with his hips, slowly sliding into that tight wet velvet heat.
"Aahhh... *Jaaaaay*..."
Suddenly, he was balls deep and Jay's tight channel was twitching and spasming around his shaft, caressing him in the most intimate and erotic way. He shuddered from the waves of pleasure that slammed into him, threatening to drown him.
Almost lost in his own lust, Bob was brought back to reality by Jay thrusting back on his cock and gasping incoherent words out in a low husky voice. Clutching his lover's thighs tightly, Bob slid part of the way out and then pushed back in.
He moaned at the exquisite sensations that flooded his system.
In and out, back and forth. Slowly he built up a rhythm and then abandoned himself to it. Thrust by thrust, his mind was washed away, only to be replaced by random sensation and impression.
Heat and pleasure spread through his body from his cock outwards as sounds, soft and breathy, teased his ears. The delightful and familiar scent of sweaty Jay and sex permeated the very air and swam through his head. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead and along his back, only to roll down his skin in fat droplets, leaving tickly tingly trails behind.
Long strong fingers squeezed his arms and Jay thrashed under him, pushing back, his willing and hot body *swallowing* his cock deep inside and wet heat wrapped around him, devouring him, owning him and his body shuddered and he picked up speed.
His hips became liquid as he rocked and thrust and *grinded* into his lover, soft round asscheeks cradled in between his hips and across his thighs. And he just wanted to be closer, to have more, to *become* a part of Jay, to never ever leave him and be separate again. To be one with his heart and soul that lay below him moaning and gasping out his pleasure and need.
A hot pressure of light and hunger and love began to gather at the base of his spine as he gasped and thrust and shivers slid up his spine and he looked down into Jay's face and his eyes *locked* onto those of his lover and he was falling and tumbling and spining into eternity and then his mind went *white* with pleasure and...
"Love you Jay!"
...his body *slam* *slam* *slammed* into Jay as his muscles spasmed and shook and he vaguely heard Jay screaming his name as burning hot liquid splashed against his chest and then he was *there* and he pumped his pleasure and his soul deep inside of Jay as he trembled and whimpered at the overwhelming sensation and then...
Long gentle fingers carded through his thick hair as he slowly felt gravity begin to reassert itself. Weary and sated, Bob slowly opened up his eyes. He was lying on his side peering over at Jay who was lying beside him. Jay's eyes were soft and sleepy and a tender smile was hovering on his sweet lips.
"You okay Lunchbox? You faded out on me... again."
Bob grinned and nodded slightly. Jay's eyes twinkled in amusement, but he didn't comment on Bob's habit of passing out while making love now that he was assured that Bob was okay. Instead, he shifted over and cuddled into the circle of his warm thick arms.
A gentle loving smile on his face, Bob opened them wide and then patently waited while Jay went through his nightly ritual of shifting and twisting and making sure the blankets were covering them *just* right. Eventually, the blonde was satisfied that everything was in its proper place and Bob curled his arms tight around the thin body.
Then, with Jay's head resting on his shoulder and one long leg thrust between his heavy thighs, Bob sighed, snuggled down in his pillow, ready to fall asleep.
"Love you Jay."
"Love you too Lunchbox. Still don't know how you put up with my ass though."
Bob grinned into the dark and squeezed his best friend tightly to him.
"Habit."
* I'll be your dream
I'll be your wish
I'll be your fantasy
I'll be your hope
I'll be your love
Be everything that you need
I'll love you more with every breath
Truly, madly, deeply do I want to stand with you on a mountain
I want to bathe with you in the sea
I want to lay like this forever
Until the sky falls down on me
"Truly madly deeply" ~ Savage Garden