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Perfectly Normal	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 4226 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the game this story is based from (Jak & Daxter), nor do I profit from writng it.

Chapter List
- 1-Perfectly Normal
- 1
AN: Yeah, more squishy Jak/Dax stuff. Le sigh. Although really, you know you love it.

For your info: This little snippet directly follows my fic “Perfect Dark.” It’s set a few months later, when Jak and Dax are exiled from Haven City and find their way to Spargus.

Characters: All belong to Naughty Dog.

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     Daxter was picky about two things. Where he slept, and what he ate. That was why they had been inside their new “home” less than half an hour and he was already playing persnickety housekeeper. The nervous energy rolled off him in waves.
     Up past his wrists in soapy dishwater, the redhead scrubbed away with every ounce of elbow grease he could muster. Even though he had been assured that he needn’t bother, the thick coating of dust on the dishes said differently. Plus, Sig hadn’t even been able to say when exactly it was that the previous occupant of the run down little place had vacated the premises. How could they be sure the guy—whoever he was—had washed his plates right?
     “I put all the sheets and blankets in the washer.”
     No sooner had Jak’s voice registered than a heinous banging and clanging began in the small closet next to the bathroom. The washing machine was obviously on its last legs. Daxter stared suspiciously at the wall, half fearing the ancient contraption would vibrate itself right through the cracking plaster.
     “Well, that thing’s gonna explode. Fantastic. Did ya put the pillowcases in too?”

     The green-blonde nodded. “Yeah. There was only one.”
     “There enough soap?”

     “Just barely.”
     “Great. We can get more later, I guess. When we have more clothes to wash.” Daxter sighed heavily, reminded once again of how filthy he was. Not that it was his fault, of course. Being thrown out into the unforgiving desert with nothing but the clothes on your back tended to do that to you. Both he and Jak had been wearing the same grimy, sweaty outfits for days.
     “Sig gave me a little money. We’ll get something else to wear in the morning. For now I’m just glad we’ve got this place.” Sounding completely unbothered with the situation, totally overlooking the fact that mere hours before they had been the center of attention at Spargus’ very violent main attraction, Jak turned away. “I’ll check out the bathroom. There might still be something we can use.”
     Dax shook his head, turning back to the sink. Jak could be thankful for the lopsided little building they were currently camping in all he wanted. What Daxter was thankful for was Sig.
     Sig, their buddy. The guy who looked out for them, who made sure they had food and water for the night, who went out of his way to find them a temporary base in a new and dangerous city. Who hadn’t really wanted to fight Jak, either.
     Despite himself Daxter’s hands began to shake. He gripped a dripping plate tightly, trying to force the all-too recent memories to the back of his brain. He hadn’t freaked out then and he wouldn’t freak out now, dammit! Only… He still didn’t know which was worse. Being thrown into the Arena without Jak, or seeing Jak put in without him.
     Probably the former. And not strictly because the redhead was still a coward at heart, either. Deep down inside he knew Jak would be alright fighting solo—he had never had trouble before. Jak having to watch Daxter fight alone, though, in his first one-on-one confrontation, unable to help him if they had a prayer of being accepted in this savage place, was something entirely different.
     If anything happens to me… what happens to Jak?
     Just that, that one idea had been what kept him calm enough to strategize. If he were hurt, or killed, or even thrown out of Spargus for losing in the Arena, Jak would be all alone. Alone in an unfair world where the people you work your ass off trying to serve and protect can banish you from their city, your home, without a second thought. Where your so-called girlfriend doesn’t even try to speak up in your defense.
     Jak needed him. Someone to watch his back and tell stupid jokes and stick by his side like a cocklebur to a cotton sock. So he ducked, dodged, scampered like mad, fired purposely crazy shots as sheer distracters until under scanty cover of flying dust and random blasts he could get up close to his opponent. The funny part was that he didn’t even know if he had any ammo left by the time he confidently threatened the guy with a headshot if he didn’t back down.
     That’s right, buddy, just concentrate on the gun an’ ignore the little fact that I’m about to pass out. Survival of the slickest.
     He had calmly walked out the victor. He had coolly watched Jak get matched up against a bear like Sig and flatly refuse to fight a friend, to nearly catastrophic results. He had casually stood next to Jak, possibly useless gun ever at the ready, until it was set in stone that they could stay in town despite the obvious displeasure of the Big Man in Charge and the glares of Arena attendees who had been actively counting on seeing someone’s head get blasted off that night. His knees hadn’t started knocking until they were following Sig to their current hidey hole.
     Slightly dazed, Daxter eyed his gun where it lay innocently on the dingy countertop next to the drying rack half filled with clean plates and cups. Letting the washcloth slowly drift to the bottom of the basin, the redhead leaned his full weight against the edge of the sink to spare his suddenly weak legs.
     I did it. I did it all by myself and I didn’t have to kill anybody. I’m not a liability. I am NOT a liability!
     Yeah, he could take care of himself. But damn if he still didn’t miss riding on a strong shoulder sometimes, trusting with every ounce of his small orange being that his best friend would take care of them both.
     “Well, the good news is that we can take a shower.” Think of the devil and in he walks. Jak snorted good-naturedly. “That is if there’s any hot water left. I told you we didn’t have to mess with washing anything but ourselves tonight.”
     “Yeah, well. S’just somethin’ ta do I guess.”
     Jak perked up immediately, an oft-seen frown flitting into place. “Daxter? Are you alright?”
     Crap. He hadn’t meant to let his voice waver. Quickly he glanced back over his shoulder at Jak, an incredibly fake grin plastered in place. “Yeah, sure, I’m just peachy. Why wouldn’t I be?”
     “Because you aren’t. Tell me, Dax. What’s wrong?”
     Daxter sighed. Jak never did let him get away with lying when he thought it was important. Rather than start an argument that could and would go on until the bigger man ferreted out what was really the matter, he opted to cut to the chase and just tell his friend the truth.
     “Really, Jak, I’m cool. Cool as a cucumber, that’s me. Just… a little nervy still, is all. Who wouldn’t be after playin’ bullet tag fer yer room an’ board?” He smiled then, a small but truly heartfelt smirk. “Present company excepted, of course. Not everybody on this rock is as gung-ho as you, big guy.”
     Jak looked confused for half a beat. Then he looked downright foolish. “Ah, damn it, Dax. I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner—you just looked so calm and collected earlier I assumed it hadn’t bothered you too much. Are you okay?”
     “This from the guy who nearly went ballistic when they first pulled us apart.” Unable to resist, he huffed and flicked the end of the damp drying towel at the green-blonde.
     Jak dodged the towel snap easily, swatting at the end of the rag. “Hey, give me a break. I was scared for you when they put you in alone, okay?” Understatement of the year. “I almost panicked and darked out, even. Then you were so on top of it that I thought…” He shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. “You’re too good at hiding things.”
     “That’s the whole point, Jakkie-boy. I look calm, you stay calm. I saw those fangs tryin’ ta come out before.” Balling up the offending cloth, Daxter dropped it back to the sandstone countertop. “But hey, no harm no foul, right? I’ll be just dandy once we eat, sleep, and put this last week firmly in our dust trail, ya dig?”
     “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.” Jak laughed humorlessly. The last five days had been utterly shit, and no power in heaven or earth could persuade them otherwise. At least the worst was, hopefully, over now.
     “Alrighty, then. Problem solved. And now if you’ll excuse me—me, myself and I will finish up here while you go hose off. Don’t forget to leave me some’a that hot water, huh?”
     The redhead was turning back to the sink, confident in his artful bluff, when Jak caught him by the arm. Before he could get the breath to protest he was tugged back around and pulled against his friend, crushed in a tight hug.
     “Hey, what the—?!”
     “When you stop shaking,” Jak whispered, “I’ll let go.”
     Daxter stood still for a moment, beyond surprised, before abandoning all pride and throwing his arms around Jak in return. He must look like he was about to hit the floor in a dead faint if the hero was up for doing something like this. Jak was generally not a very huggy kind of guy.
     “It’s okay.” The voice in his ear was low, deep, and soothing. A big hand awkwardly petted his mussed hair down, roamed cautiously over tense shoulders and upper back. “We’re okay, Dax. We’re fine. You did great out there today. Neither of us is hurt, and we have a place to stay. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
     Dax shuddered, not even bothering to care what he had to look like burying his face in Jak’s chest like a scared ottsel. No one was there to see the pitiful display anyway, and he craved the reassurance like plants needed water. This whole situation was just complete bullshit and none of it was fair but since when had anything related to them been fair after that day on Misty Island…
     “What about you, huh?” Daxter dared a peek up at his friend. “Are you okay? I mean, uh… with what happened the other day, back in, uh, Haven…” Smooth, Daxter. Very smooth.
     At the mention of the city Jak’s eyes visibly darkened, looking all at once far away. Dax couldn’t help but squeeze him tighter. How dare they do something like that to his best pal, the dirty low-down good-for-nothing hypocrites? They were lower than sub-standard metalheads. Lower than roaches. Lower than already chewed gum on a dirty sidewalk that people stepped in after walking through the sewers—
     “No. I’m not okay. But I’ll get better.”
     Daxter looked back up at Jak questioningly, startled from his increasingly unflattering musings by the abruptly honest answer. The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Jak’s mouth as he ruffled red hair, knocking goggles askew in a habit he hadn’t been able to lose along with Daxter’s ottsel ears.
     “I’ll be alright. I’ve got you here with me, don’t I?”
     Dax smirked. “As if you’d ever get rid’a me, pal. We stick together no matter what.”
     “No kidding. I think Veger was ready to jump for joy, getting free of both of us at the same time.”
     It was hard not to laugh at the memory. There the Demolition Duo had been not four days past, sporting matching handcuffs and being read the official ‘you’re getting banished’ notice by tall, dark, and balding. At the end of the harsh decree Daxter had very solemnly turned to Jak and said—
     “You had to point out that his pants were unzipped.” Jak chuckled helplessly as the redhead grinned cheekily up at him. “I have to admit I never thought we’d start a potentially deadly cross-desert trek laughing like asses.”
     “Hey, his dirty underwear was showin’! Sometimes the truth hurts.” He had cheered Jak up again. Good. Contentedly Daxter leaned up against his much bigger and warmer bastion of good sense, ready to bask in the affectionate contact until the green-blonde decided it was time to pry him off. One had to take what one could get when not small, orange, and furry enough to be regularly petted. He had learned that months ago as far as touchy-feely time went.
     Still smiling, Jak let a heavy arm rest over each of the redhead’s thin shoulders and drape down his upper back. “One of these days, Dax, that mouth of yours is going to get us in serious trouble.”
     “Oh, come now, Jak. When’s the last time somethin’ I did got us in a fix?”
     “Well, there was that time two weeks ago when—”
      A hand firmly clamped over Jak’s mouth. “That was a hypothetical question, thank you.”
     Jak shook his head with a muffled growl he didn’t mean, and Daxter couldn’t stop grinning. He and Jak were playing. In the face of all that had happened, he could still get the hero in a good enough mood to joke around. Life wasn’t all bad, not by a long shot.
     “I swear… What would ya do without me, Jakkie-boy?”
     “I’d go berserk, and Dark would tear this town apart, and eventually someone would get brave enough to gun me down like the crazed animal I—”
     “Whoa, whoa!” Daxter’s hand flew back to cover Jak’s mouth, for real now. He didn’t want to hear that. “That one was also hypothetical, jeez!”
     As the green-blonde muttered something unintelligible behind the restrictive hand Dax felt another little shiver run down his spine. One more affirmation that he was right where he was supposed to be; next to his best pal. A sudden heat in his chest, a happy-nervous flutter a little lower down accompanied the thought, and he was abruptly very aware of Jak’s warm mouth pressed against his ungloved palm. Flushing slightly, he pulled the hand away once more and wiped it casually on his sleeve.
     Hesitantly, Daxter glanced back up at his friend’s relaxed, passably contented face. Jak looked ragged, harried. He looked tired. He looked like he needed that shower and a nice, long, uninterrupted sleep somewhere he didn’t have to worry about being ambushed by anyone or anything.
     He also looked awfully good, as the redhead was starting to think more and more of late.... Dax gulped surreptitiously.
     Noticing the intent stare, Jak cocked his head and gave him that slightly puzzled little smile. The one where his ears did perksy and one green brow went up in inquiry. “What?”
     Kiss him! Kiss him NOW! Just reach up, grab hold’a his scarf and—
     “Uh… nothin’. Guess I spaced out a little there.” Boy, he sure was standing awfully close to the big guy… Goofy whims must not be pandered to. Though it was possibly the last thing he wanted to do, Daxter felt himself leaning away slightly. Jak allowed the move, apparently ready to accept that he was alright now.
     “Oh. Feeling better?”
     “Yeah, yeah, I feel just swell. It’s aaall under control.” He wished. Oh, did he wish.
     “Good.” With a last companionable ‘that-a-boy’ pat on the back, Jak left his side. So did the little happy bubble of warmth and support. “If you think you’re going to get upset again you tell me, alright?”
     “You got it. Can do.” He resisted the urge to do an ultra-lame thumbs up of cheesy reassurance. “Thanks, Jak.”
   “No problem. Partner.”
     With that Jak drifted off again, out of the small kitchen and around the corner. Presumably to that much anticipated shower. Daxter sighed. He leaned back against the sink once Jak was out of sight, weak in the knees for an entirely different reason.
     Partner. Now that was an amazing word, right there. He loved it when Jak said that. It meant that he was useful and appreciated, more than the almost-pet he had been, more than even a best friend. He was vital to Jak’s immediate existence, and it felt great. And then there was also the other meaning of the word…
     Come on, Daxxie, don’t read too much into it. Half listening to the drum of water from the direction of the bathroom, barely heard over the spastic rattle of the washing machine, the redhead gathered his cloth and went back to the few remaining dishes. Just because you an’ him jerk each other like there’s no tomorrow when you’re worked up doesn’t mean there’s more to it than stress relief. Odds of Jakkie-boy thinkin’ of you as more than his best bud? Zip, zero, nada, an’ nil.
     Damn it. Lecturing yourself sucked. Daxter attacked the bowls with a vengeance.

- - - - -

     There wasn’t a drop of hot water left by the time Jak unrepentantly reappeared from the shower. Daxter had anticipated this. He refrained from any snippy remarks and opted for a cool wash-down instead, trying to remember that his share of warm had gone down the drain with the dishes and laundry.
     Guess I might as well be thankful this place doesn’t have a water restriction or somethin’, out in the middle’a the desert an’ all. Least now I won’t smell like a yakow in the barnyard.
     There was an almost new bar of soap to be had, as well. Small comforts. Dax sniffed quickly at the back of his hand where shimmering bubbles clung, somewhat missing his much more sensitive ottsel nose. Trying to sniff things out was still reflex, even nearly a year after the furry fact.
     Hey, this stuff ain’t half bad. Jakkie-babe must smell like a million bucks after—
     Whoa. Time out. Hold it right there. Put on the emergency breaks. Derail that train of thought before he started imagining clinging to Jak, face happily buried in cool, clean, silky green-blonde strands and… too late. Shit. He began to knock his forehead against the wall of the tiny shower stall in frustration.
     “Get a grip, Daxter. Get… a… grip.”
     He didn’t even know if Jak would be up for any fooling around that night. Sure Dax himself was antsy, but Jak was less physically tense than emotionally heartsick. What if he brought up sexy stuff and the big guy didn’t want any part of it? He would look stupid, that’s what. Like he was growing to expect it or something when he really had no right to. Yeah… probably a lousy idea all around.
     This was a whole lot easier when it was just Dark-boy jumpin’ me whenever he felt like it, Dax thought with a sigh, and reached for a towel.
     It had been… what, five months ago already? Six? Since he and Jak had been trapped in that subterranean room in the Underground by a freak explosion. Stressed and confused, still frightened and on edge, touching had been immensely helpful to the two of them in toughing out the experience. Touching, and tickling, and petting, and grinding, and dry-humping, and in the space of one night their formerly perfect platonic best friends relationship had been tipped into a blender and set on liquefy.
     Not that it had been strictly bad, of course. Sure there were a few awkward moments, but those passed relatively quickly. Before too long any particularly stressful day would end with he and Jak sneaking away for a quick mutual pawing anywhere they could—the showers, the empty bunk-room (if they were extremely lucky), the out of the way storage closet down that one corridor with the messed up lighting that no one ever seemed to go near. And on just about every mission away from the rest of the Underground when Jak needed to go dark and creepy for even a moment…
     Daxter smirked as he shook lingering water out of his hair. Jak barely needed to lay eyes on him in dark form and he was growling and purring and trying to coax him to the floor, be damned where they were. Or simply grabbing, squeezing, licking, nipping, or whatever. Dax rarely put up a fight, and when he did it was almost entirely token. Odds were on any given occasion he wanted it just as much as Jak did, and sexy stuff with the hero was nigh mind blowing when the darker part of his brain took the reigns of instinct and sheer want over any form of propriety.
     But Jak had recently called a halt to all that, after coming to his senses and finding a little too enthusiastic a bite mark on his blissfully sleeping friend’s neck. Daxter still didn’t see what the big deal was. It hadn’t hurt or anything. Jak just sometimes got a little playfully rough when eco-ed out. Regardless, since that incident the hero had insisted they stick to less risky activities, ones that didn’t involve dark eco trips. He had kept the redhead at a distance on any mission where it seemed likely he would need to go dark.
     Spoil sport. He was getting to miss that indelicate but affectionate pawing. Jak was always a lot gentler when he was in his right mind.
     Finished drying, Daxter wrapped the towel around his waist and shoved open the rickety bathroom door. Okay, enough of those thoughts. He just needed to distract himself again, that was all. Maybe he could sweep up in the kitchen, or wash the few pots and pans they now had, or polish up his new gun, or… something. Anything to keep his focus off Jak.
     Lost in thought, he walked right into the small pile of clothes that had been placed outside the door. Puzzled, he gathered them back together again. “Hey, Jak? What’re these doin’ here?”
     “They’ll be big, but they’re clean.” The green-blonde’s voice echoed from the other room. “I found more in a drawer under the bed.”
     “Aww, but Jak—”
     “Don’t whine. Your dirty stuff’s already in the washer, so put those on or walk around naked.”
     He almost made a perverted joke. Almost. Then he thought better of it and buried his face in the shirt he was holding instead. Again with the sniffing, but at least now he was sure it was clean. In fact it smelled vaguely of wood, like the cloth had soaked up the scent of the drawer it had been stashed in for who knew how long. Maybe he could handle wearing someone else’s clothes under those conditions.
     “I don’t know why it’s such a problem,” Jak said when Daxter had dressed and returned to the kitchen. “You steal my shirts all the time.”
     Dax sniffed haughtily. “I do not steal yer shirts. I borrow ‘em because they’re thicker and warmer.” And they smelled good. But that was beside the point.
     The hero had already changed into his own ‘new’ digs. They fit him very well, Dax noted sourly—tan pants and a dark green sleeveless shirt that complimented the roots of his hair nicely even though it was a different shade. He looked cool. Tough. Gorgeous, as always.
     In contrast the pants that the redhead was wearing, the color of dirty sand, rode low around his slim hips. They couldn’t find a belt. He had rolled up the sleeves of the plain white shirt Jak had found for him four times to make them short enough, and even then the garment hung on him like he had no meat on his bones whatsoever. Which he didn’t, but it was still embarrassing to have it pointed out so blatantly. Mildly annoyed, he moved back to the sink.
     “You’re seriously going to keep going with those dishes.”
     “I’m not just gonna leave ‘em layin’ in the rack, duh.”
     “You never keep… never kept our room in the Underground this clean.”
     Dax winced at the slip-up and quickly forced correction. But as Jak immediately moved on, he didn’t act like he noticed. He wished he could at least bring up the subject of mail routes, though. He wanted to make sure that Tess, possibly the one person still not on their Haven City ‘screw you too, assholes!’ list, knew they were safe and not baked to a crisp on the wasteland sands. Some correspondence had to pass between Haven and Spargus, right? Even if it was just by word of mouth between roving vagabonds who didn’t belong in either city, surely someone could give Tessy an itty bitty message for him.
     “Don’t hurt yourself.” Jak’s quiet voice broke into his pondering.
     “Huh? Hurt my…? Doin’ what?”
     Jak looked entirely serious. “Thinking.”
     A silent stare of deepest annoyance met the remark. Jak just smirked. And that was when the full reality of their new situation hit the redhead. Absolutely nothing had changed. Well, other than their location, their neighbors, and their renewed and much stronger animosity toward a certain fickle girl-inventor-mechanic. What was different was almost entirely superficial, unimportant. He and Jak were still together, still baiting one another mercilessly. They were constant as they had ever been.
     Dax paused, startled by the revelation, then turned back to his friend. “Hey, Jak?”
     “Yeah?”
     “We really will be alright here, won’t we?” Oddly thoughtful, Daxter twisted the dish rag as he mused out loud. “It’ll be a little different, but it’ll be okay. Right?”
     “Right. It’s just another adventure, Dax. And we’re getting pretty good at those.”
     “True. Very true.” Much more cheerful, the redhead began to stack away the clean dishes without quite remembering to wipe out the dusty cabinets first. Ah, well. One more chore for the next day. “Huh. Y’know, speakin’ of adventures. I wonder where that psycho monkaw went.”
     “Probably crying back to Onin. He’ll be back.”
     “I dunno. From the looks’a the townsfolk around here, maybe he got shot, plucked, an’ barbequed.” Daxter tried not to sound too hopeful at the prospect. He didn’t necessarily succeed. Next to Torn and Samos Pecker was his worst enemy, and Jak needed his perfectly shaped ass kicked when he insisted that the monkaw and the former ottsel were a lot alike.
     Chuckling, Jak turned back to the hallway. On his way out, though, a cracked and dusty mirror caught his attention. He paused to take a long look at himself. “Hey, Dax? What would you think about me cutting my hair?”
     “It’d probably make sense. Keep ya a lot cooler out here in the wastelands. But then again, I’m sure you’ll look pretty no matter what ya do to it, sweetheart.”
     Jak’s eye twitched. “Uh, excuse me? I don’t think I heard you right. What was that, again?”
     “He-heh. I didn’t say a word—blondie.” Daxter laughed, took a menacing middle finger flip in stride, and turned back to his dishes with a lighter heart. Which leapt to his throat like a startled bird to the sky when he felt a looming shadow behind him, and big hands suddenly landed on his hips. The redhead gulped audibly and promptly dropped the plate he had been holding with a clatter.
     “You know what I think?” Jak’s voice in his ear was quietly amused. Deep. Husky, even. “I think you’re trying to start something.”
     The spike of punched-in-the-gut arousal was instant. Warm breath on his skin, the slight scratch of Jak’s goatee against that sensitive place on the side of his neck, fingers stealthily easing under the waistband of his too-large pants—consider the “ON” switch firmly flipped.
     Daxter weaseled around in Jak’s grip until he was facing his friend, his back to the sink and counter. He grinned slyly at the rather hopeful expression on the other’s face. “Can’t say fer sure that I was. But, hey, if you insist!”
     Apparently that was all Jak needed to hear. In moments their hands were diving frantically down each other’s pants and Jak was leaning forward for a kiss.
     Kisses.
     Daxter had been floored the first time Jak had haltingly confessed, amid glaring blushes and much embarrassment, that Dax himself was the only person he had ever kissed any deeper than a chaste peck on the lips. What were the odds?! Keira must be stupid; there was no doubt in Dax’s mind after that little secret slipped out. He had immediately squashed his own slight embarrassment and shamelessly run back to Tess for some proper kissing lessons, passing on everything he learned to Jak. Tess thought it was cute. She would. And Jak, for his part, had learned willingly. Eagerly.
     Yep… I taught him well. Good thing he never asked how I got good at it so fast. Smiling slightly against Jak’s mouth, Daxter let his eyes slip shut. It was easy to get lost like this. Probably too easy. Getting easier every time. Like a drug, or something. Then a strong hand determinedly cupped his arousal, and his eyes shot open again on a muffled squeak. Yes, he was still paying attention!
     “Oh, yeah, babe—right there! K-kinda glad there wasn’t any underwear that fit me!”
     “Mmn.” Jak mumbled absently and began to fondle in earnest.
     Dax quivered, and honestly wanted to go up on tiptoe so he could straddle and rub against Jak’s thigh, if the taller hero would be so kind as to slide one between his legs. Jak seemed a bit too focused for such shenanigans this time, however. Maybe it was just him, but Jak seemed more intent than usual tonight. More rushed. A little desperate, even. He kept Dax close, firmly pinned between the cabinet and the green-blonde’s own body. Not that Daxter cared. He was loving every minute of it.
     “Say something, Dax.”
     He shivered and twitched at the hot murmur directly next to his ear. “What should I say?”
     “Anything. Just say anything.”
     Tell me I mean something. Tell me I’m valued by somebody. Daxter could translate the silent plea flawlessly—one of the many small quirks best pals picked up through the years. He was used to reading between the quiet hero’s lines. He was also more than happy to oblige.
     “Yer alright, buddy,” he purred, smiling dreamily as he rocked against Jak and twined a silky strand of yellow-green through his fingers. “Beyond alright, in fact. Yer actually pretty awesome. We’re awesome together, just me an’ you. Jak an’ Daxter.” Yeah, he could babble sweet nothings all night if he had to. And just maybe, here in a new city that almost seemed like a different world, it wouldn’t matter quite so much that his voice wasn’t Keira’s.
     Jak sighed against his shoulder, quiet and steady, like what he had said had mattered. Daxter’s chest constricted almost painfully and he hugged his bigger partner tighter than ever. Maybe he couldn’t snap his fingers and instantly make all the emotional boo-boos better, but he could damn well try.
     Jak, yer amazing. He let his mind ramble, running over everything else he wanted to say out loud and couldn’t, lest things get way weirder way quickly. Yer gorgeous. Yer perfect. Yer NOT disposable. Yer my best friend, my hero, ninety nine percent of what’s important in my microbial little life an’ I love youuu—
     He was being pumped slow and steady from base to tip in a way that guaranteed mental short circuits when all that tension came to a head. His own hand was shaking on Jak. Okay. Here was where he exercised a little willpower and did not whimper and squirm like a blissful idiot while Jak got him off and got nothing in return until Dax recovered his marbles. Quickly the redhead ducked out of and away from Jak’s tight embrace.
     Jak looked absolutely traumatized when he found his arms suddenly empty. Granted, it had never happened before. Almost getting busted in the act aside, they had never just stopped before once they got going. Looking a little lost, he turned to follow and reached out to catch his escaping partner. “Dax—?”
     “Chill, Jakkie-boy. M’not goin’ anywhere.” Far from it. While Jak watched, puzzled, Daxter coaxed him to back up against the cabinets and lean there. Then, wetting his lips almost nervously, he went to his knees before he could think better of it and grabbed for the already loose ties of Jak’s pants.
     Blue eyes widened to their limit even as Jak’s hands closed reflexively on the edge of the counter. “Uh… you sure?”
     Dax tried his best to look and sound cocky, seductive as he tugged the pants the rest of the way open. “Special treat, pal.”
     It was easier to sound confident than to feel it, that was for sure. He had only done this once before, and Jak had been full-on eco-ed out at the time to boot. Dark Jak didn’t care quite so much about finesse or technique, just so long as they were doing something sticky, sweaty, and liable to leave bruises in embarrassing places. Dax just hoped Jak in his normal state of mind wouldn’t be too judgmental.
     As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Jak tried his best not to move too much on him, and he found it something pretty close to easy to slide his lips over the smooth, slippery crown and start to suck. Strangely, as eager for release as he was himself, it was somehow rather calming to fall into a rhythm of bob and suck.
     Sweet Precursors, we have reached a new low. I’m usin’ my friend’s dick as a pacifier. Yeesh.
     In the end, of course, the treatment did what it was supposed to do. Less than three minutes of carefully but enthusiastically reacclimatizing his tongue to hot, wet flesh and slightly bitter, musky taste, and Jak’s thigh muscles were tightening like wires under his hands. A fist twisted unintentionally in his hair. He yelped a little, opening his mouth as he did so, and was rewarded with a splatter of hot white across the lower part of his face.
     To say Dax was indignant would have been an understatement. His ears flew back and his mouth fell the rest of the way open as he sputtered disbelievingly. He was almost able to forget even his own burgeoning arousal. “Jak, w-what the heck—?!”
     “Sorry.” With a low groan the green-blonde slowly slid down the cabinet, all but collapsing next to the redhead on the cool stone floor tiles as his legs suddenly boycotted standing. “You, um… you have come on your face.”
     “And just whose fault do ya think that is, huh?!” Dax couldn’t not laugh, even as he wiped at his cheek with one hand and punched Jak’s shoulder, hard, with the other. “Y’know, just fer that I ought’a…” Then he paused. Despite himself, a big grin eventually forced itself onto his face. “Jak, listen. I just totally realized.”
     “What?”
     “We have our own house! We can have sex in our freakin’ kitchen! How great is that?!”
     Jak chuckled unsteadily, lingering blush more than apparent as he reached forward and caught Daxter by the hips. “Pretty great, Dax. But, um… come here. I’ll… do that to you back.”
     “Ooh. Do I get ta—”
     “No. That was an accident, so you can’t come on my face.”
     “Bad excuse, Jak. Very lame.”
     It was all in fun, of course. Dax graciously did not go out of his way to make a mess as Jak returned the favor in kind, a little more carefully than the redhead had but with no less enthusiasm. And when they lay panting quietly together between the battered stove on one side and the sink cabinets on the other, Daxter held possessively to Jak’s chest, he loved their new place with all his heart and soul. Especially when he realized what would happen next.
     “C’mon, Dax, it’s late. Let’s get to bed.”
     Alright. Now he was officially ecstatic. There was only one bed. And they could share it! He didn’t have to creep down from his bunk in the dead of night and crawl in next to Jak, always taking the risk that he wouldn’t wake up early the next morning and get out before someone kicked their door open to call them out for a morning mission briefing.
     Warm, comfy, HELD. By Jak. Every night. Every night. Every single night! Thank you, Precursors! Remind me ta be a little more reverent from now on…
     Minutes later, he beat Jak under the newly washed and dried covers. Jak gathered him close at once, to the redhead’s for once silent delight. Hey, if the big guy needed a teddy bear (or a former ottsel) for the night, Dax was more than willing to play the stuffed animal. Jak’s arms would always mean safety and comfort to him now. Apparently, having him close had the same affect on Jak. Sex, snuggles, and sleep seemed to be a pretty powerful tool to get tense heroes calm again.
     “Thanks, Dax. I’ll try not to squeeze you this time.”
     Daxter grinned sleepily as they settled in in the darkness, wanting to start another round of lazy kisses but unwilling to push his luck. “Hey, no sweat. Can’t hurt me squeezin’ anyway. I’m bendy like that.”
     With a final little hug the hero went quiet. Dax couldn’t blame him, really. It had been a long, long, loooong day. Tomorrow promised to be a busy one, too. Sig had promised to return, and they would probably have to cave and go see what had happened to the wise-ass monkaw if he hadn’t turned up by morning. But that didn’t stop the redhead from dreaming.
     In his dream, he might not have been on Jak’s shoulder anymore—but they leaned on each other, side by side. And in his dream he wasn’t afraid to tell Jak he loved him.

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The end.

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(2^nd)AN: I had no business starting this when I did, with everything else on my plate. But what the heck. This will lead us nicely into another upcoming work, a Light Jak-central fic I call “Sparkle & Shine.” Hope you all might drop in when it’s done!

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