Title: Fever
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, post-Dogma (no direct spoilers)
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: NC-17, language and graphic m/m sex (well, as graphic as I'm capable of right now).
Status: posted July 2002
Archive: wherever you want, full permission, just lemme know about it. No, I don't believe grabbing it from the list requires a note. :>
E-mail address for feedback: Kelandris
Series/Sequel: First in the 'Fever' series; precedes "Jersey Boy".
Disclaimers: All characters belong to Kevin Smith and 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.
Notes: Ooh, a whole new AU line...where Silent Bob gets through all four (to date) films without anything more than that one chaste kiss from Jay. After this, I'm going to be sitting alone in a house with no phone, no internet access and a cold for about a week. I figured I owed you guys some smut before I left.
Summary: Jay has a cold, and Bob tries to make him feel better. Or Jay tries to make Bob feel better. Not sure which. :>
Warnings: Some for language. M/M sex. Homophobia. Dangerous fevers. No, not that dangerous. Some angst.


"Fever"
by Kelandris the Mad


Jay had been looking drawn all day, and by the time they got back from the mall, he was coughing and starting to shiver. Whatever it was, it was hitting fast, and Silent Bob just shook his head. It wasn't that surprising, actually--it was all he could do some days to get Jay to eat. Well, at least what he considered food--neither man was a great cook, and they ate out more often than not. But he still considered a few slices of pizza or a burger and fries a notch above Jay's usual fare, beer and pot. Or beer and candy bars and pot.

So it was no wonder, but man, how he hated it when Jay got sick. The younger man, liberal enough with the insults when he was sober and well, got so fucking insecure when he was sick. He lashed out at anyone taking care of him, which, more often than not, was Bob.

By the time they got home, Jay was weaving and complaining of being dizzy. Bob shook his head and tried to tune out the stream of insults and paranoia as he opened the apartment door.

"You gave me somethin', didn't you, fat ass? Slipped me one a those date-rape drugs, huh, so you can get your faggy hands on my three-piece set? Fuckin' fag, I knew it, always after my ass...How many times I gotta tell you I am all about pussy, man?"

Silent Bob rolled his eyes, deciding against bringing Jay to the couch. If Jay was in his room, at least Bob could close the door when it got bad.

"Oh, sure," Jay said blurrily, "here it comes, I fucking knew it...Man, you think I can't fight your fag ass down, you got another fuckin' thing comin'..."

"Shut up, Jay."

As soon as he could, he dumped the protesting boy onto the bed, pulling a blanket over him.

"Juice?" he asked.

"You'll never have a better chance, you fat fuck." Jay half-threw off the blanket, hands fumbling at the crotch of his jeans. "C'mon, you know you wan' to..."

A look of total disgust crossed Bob's face. What the fuck ever, but this was new territory even for the homophobic blond. Where he got these ideas...Bob pressed a hand to Jay's forehead. Jesus, he was hot. He pulled the blanket over Jay again, and walked out to the kitchen, digging through the freezer. As he'd suspected, they had two ice-encrusted juice cans, one apple, one orange. He thought he'd make the apple first, and by the time he walked back with a glass to Jay's room, he saw the blond had fallen asleep. Well, good. Best thing for both of them, frankly.

Setting the glass down on the side table, Bob carefully moved to the foot of the bed, unlacing Jay's Docs and pulling them off, placing them silently on the floor.

"Mrr...umm," Jay murmured. "Bob, don't...no, don't...go..."

What? Bob strained to hear more, but Jay had started snoring lightly, so he walked out, shaking his head. He trailed a hand down their vid collection, finally choosing one of Jay's favorites, Hard Target. He was kind of burned on John Hughes anyway, after the total disappointment of the Illinois trip. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the tape in, kicked off his shoes, and settled back on the couch. His coat was already carefully hung up in the closet.

Halfway through the film, just as van Damme was spinning with acrobatic grace over a moving car, Jay cried out.

"Bob! Don't leave me...mrmm..."

The bearded man stood, furrowing his brow and walking back to Jay's room. The blond was knotted up in a big tangle of blanket and legs, tossing his head, mumbling.

"No, Bob," he said. "Please, no, don't you..."

"Hey," Bob said, troubled. He stood by the bed, smoothing a strand of pale hair from Jay's sweating face. God, he was still burning up. His hand moved over Jay's cheek to his jaw, feeling the side of his neck for swelling.

Then Jay kissed his palm.

Bob jerked his hand back, staring at it stupidly, then looking back at Jay. The blond looked sleepily pleased with himself, and reached out, wrapping his long arms around Bob's hips.

"Mrr...you're here," he mumbled against Bob's crotch. "Yeah, you came back, good..."

The larger man swallowed uneasily. Okay, it was the fever. Jay was delusional. Jay was thinking of someone else, *anyone* else. Jay was...

...pulling down his pants.

"Hey!" he said, batting at Jay's hands. The blond didn't seem to mind, moving them from Bob's hips and plunging one hand through the front flap of Bob's boxers.

"Fuck," Bob whispered shakily. Jay's...hand...was...

"Yeah," Jay said softly. His other hand pulled the waistband of the boxers down, pulling his other hand free as he did. Then his hands latched onto Bob's hips, wrapping around his ass and pulling him forward. Bob fought for balance and then froze as Jay's mouth swallowed him whole.

**C'mon, brain, work with me,** he thought hysterically. Was this all some weird dream? He was going to wake up in the mall somewhere, remnants of a bad pretzel in his hand. Jay would be leaning over, staring with contempt down at his bearded face. Or maybe he had fallen asleep on the couch. Jay would stagger out and punch him in the arm to wake him up. As usual...

**Fuck, Lunchbox, like you ain't seen Pretty in Pink enough times for ten gay fucks.**

One of his hands grasped the top shelf of the headboard. The other twitched with a previously unrealized desire to stroke through long blond hair. And Jay...fuck, it was like he'd done this before, and as soon as he thought that, his brain twisted away from the thought, jumping as if scalded. Not soon enough, however--his already hard cock seemed to stiffen, lengthen, and Jay mumbled something happily around it. The boy's agile tongue traced heated patterns over Bob's sensitive flesh, and Bob's eyes rolled up in his head.

**Don't pass out,** he thought, **don't you fucking *dare* pass out...**

His hand finally dropped to Jay's hair, sliding his fingers into that golden mass. Oh, yeah...Bob whimpered, bucking against Jay and praying the blond wouldn't wake up, or come to his senses, or something...God only knew how, but he knew Jay would find a way to blame this on him.

Jay murmured something else, his lips sliding off Bob's cock, and the feeling of cool air on his spit-slick rod made him whimper again.

"What, ya fuckin' worried, fat ass? Think I'm not gonna finish ya?"

Stunned, Bob looked down into Jay's face, gleaming with a layer of sweat. His eyes were clouded, a dazed stormy blue, but open.

**Oh, fuck.**

"I--no, I--"

**Great. Now he not only thinks I'm a fag, but that I stutter. Can we go back to thinking Jay looked sick? Hey, Jay, you're kinda pale, let's go home?**

"Fuck that," said Jay. His pointed tongue flicked out, licking a drop of pre-come from the sensitive slit of Bob's cock. Bob yelled.

"That's more like it..." And the blond swallowed him again, his strong lips pulling him inside. Oh, God. Oh, fucking *God*... Inch by screamingly sensitive inch, inside the wet furnace of Jay's mouth...

"Jay, I gotta...sit down, I gotta, Jay, I'm...gonna fall down here..."

He was having enough trouble just standing, he couldn't keep the words back at the same time.

"Mmm," Jay murmured, pulling off again and licking the underside of his cock, tracing the throbbing vein from the tip to where it disappeared at the base.

"Then keep talkin'," he said, that flexible tongue lapping every inch of flesh he found. Balls and cock and upper thighs and...shit, Bob had to sit down or fall down, right fucking *now*...

He collapsed onto the bed, leaning over and panting. Jay chuckled throatily and dove for him, pushing him back with warm hands. He pushed up Bob's shirt and sucked on his nipples, laved his chest and belly with wet heat, then sucked hard on his cock again before Bob could react with more than escalating moans.

"Jay...fuck, Jay, *please*..."

He was whimpering, laying flat on the bed, shirt thrown half off, sock-covered toes curled, hands clenched in the folds of the blanket, and Jay was laughing at him. *Laughing* at him, the feverish fuck.

Oh, like he even cared, as long as Jay didn't stop sucking him...and licking...and murmuring things his skin registered as humming along the sensitive nerve endings, making his whole body tremble and clench on the bed...

**Fuck, Jay, you got a great mouth,** he thought, and Jay giggled. **Oh, God, please let me never wake up if it's a dream--**

"Jay--" he gasped. "Jay, gonna--gonna--oh, God, Jay, gonna--"

"So come already," Jay said clearly, and dug his fingers into Bob's ass again. He bobbed up and down a few times for good measure, and the bearded man screamed, arching off the bed, flooding Jay's mouth with fluid that felt cooler than the blond's tongue.

And Jay lifted off him, smiling loopily, holding himself up through sheer willpower, it looked like. There was a creamy drop of come on his lower lip, and Bob shivered, wanting to kiss it off.

"Juice?" Jay asked plaintively.

**Oh, fuck, he's sick, what the hell am I thinking??**

He struggled to his feet, pulling clothes into place haphazardly and staggering towards the kitchen on still-twitching legs. By the time he came back with a new glass of juice, Jay was curled on his side, blanket wrapped unevenly around him, snoring again.

**Shit. I knew it. I *know* he's going to blame me for this...**

Shaking his head, he returned to the couch, twitching every time he thought of Jay's mouth.


END
***************
Kelandris the Mad
slowly I turned...step by step...


If you wanna go back, go back. If you wanna read the next one, read the next one. If you wanna go somewhere else...hey, I ain't stoppin' you.

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