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Small Favors	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 6864 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the game this fic is based from (Jak & Daxter) or make any money from the writing of it.

Chapter List
- 1-Ch. 1
- 2-Ch. 2
- 3-Ch. 3
- 4-Ch. 4
- 5-Ch. 5
- 1
- 2
AN: I wasn’t really planning on posting this here, but then I thought… what the hell. I’m running unchecked in this section as it is! Ah, well. Somebody might enjoy it. On with the fluffy love!

Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc. It’s better that way.

Warning: If you object to cute little anthro ottsels and big strapping human boys with pointy ears getting their groove on together, please tiptoe back out the way you came. I accept crit on my writing, not my choice of pairing. Thank you for your cooperation.

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“Hey, Jak?”

“Hmm?”

“Think y’could… think ya could scratch my back fer me? Can’t quite get to it, y’know what I mean?”

Jak chuckled quietly. Sliding his drink to one side, he obligingly reached out and found the dip in a small back, the curve of supple vertebrae just above where the thick tail began. He traced his friend’s spine higher until his fingers nailed the spot between sharp shoulder blades that made Daxter wriggle and squirm and do everything but start thumping a back foot in his relief. It was a good night.

It was also a very late night. Or possibly a very early morning. Jak couldn’t be sure. There weren’t any clocks prominently displayed at the Hip Hog saloon and he couldn’t be bothered to go looking for one. The green-blonde had better things to think about. That foamy mug in one hand and the twisty little rope of ottsel doing a fantastic impression of a seizure under the other were much more important than what time it happened to be.

“Did I get it?”

Daxter squeaked incoherently and continued to spasm.

Jak helpfully stopped scratching. “Did I get the itchy spot?”

“Itchy…?” It took Daxter a few seconds to uncross his eyes, and a few more to slowly resume an upright position on the bar next to Jak. “Yeah. Yeah, pal, ya got the itchy place. Thanks.”

Smiling, Jak watched him weave a winding path toward the end of the bar, wobbling around empty mugs and glasses. He was crouched down low to the scuffed, scarred wood, almost as if he were a real animal that had no choice but to move on all fours. Dax sure did act goofy when he was drunk. Jak held back a rather buzzed laugh. Come to think of it, he probably wasn’t all that non-goofy when he was drunk, himself. Thoughtfully Jak looked down into his own mug.

Alcohol. One of many new things he was slowly getting acclimatized to. He had been too young to care much about drinking back home in Sandover, and he had certainly never been offered liquor in his nearly two years of forced residence in Baron Praxis’ so-called prison. But now, thanks to Daxter, he was free of that place—and free to join his smaller friend in what had apparently become his new favorite pastime.

“Alright, boys, I’m done cleaning up for the night.”

Jak looked up at the busty blonde smiling at the both of them as she expertly twirled a set of keys around her index finger. Tess. Something else that was new. She was easy to get used to, though. She gave them free liquor and was more than easy on the eyes.

“You goin’ ta bed, Tessy-babe?”

She intercepted Daxter as he staggered his way to the edge of the countertop. “Yep, I’m just about beat. You boys going or staying?”

“Staying.” Jak spoke up before his much drunker friend could. The Krimzon Guard was out uncommonly thick that night; more than half the reason they had stayed hidden at the bar so late to begin with. Jak knew better than to chance taking on a squad of them half tanked.

“Alright, I’ll go ahead and lock up then. By the way, Jak. Thanks for all your help tonight.”

The green-blonde shrugged noncommittally as Tess proceeded to secure the saloon. He hadn’t done much. It was mere coincidence that he was both strong and intimidating enough to serve as a stand-in bouncer when some of the more stubborn boozers refused to heed last call. Not that Tess couldn’t handle them herself—far from it. Apparently her trusty can of mace and a small handheld shock generator did the job when blowing holes in the wall with her favorite guns just wouldn’t do.

Done with the lockdown, Tess approached them once more. Daxter immediately fell into her arms, lapping up the attention she readily paid him. Jak rolled his eyes, but didn’t really mean it. The other reasons they had stayed so long were bouncing around inside the pretty barkeep’s blouse. He couldn’t blame Dax for trying. Not really.

“My room is down that passage in the back,” Tess was explaining as she rubbed behind the ottsel’s ears and down, over his shoulders and back. Spread out stomach down on the bar, Daxter looked liable to melt into a little puddle of orange goo at any moment. “Saves on rent money, you know? There’s an extra room right down the hall from mine you two can use if you want to. There are rooms upstairs, too, but Krew stays up there once in a while.”

That called for an immediate pass. Sleeping upright on the stool he was currently parked on would be preferable to using a room Krew had ever slept in. “We’ll use the one down here. Thanks, Tess.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s at the end of the hall on the right. Goodnight, boys.” Leaning down, Tess landed a well-placed smooch between two velvet-furred ears. Daxter called a feeble goodnight as she made her exit, drifting out of the halo of light offered by one lone lamp left on over the bar. He seemed too drunk or too overwhelmed by the miniature rubdown to get back up. It wasn’t clear which.

Jak shook his head. Absently, he wondered what exactly the woman saw in his friend. Did she see merely a cute fuzzy thing, soft and amusing, that could just as easily be carried away to bed with her like some sort of animated stuffed animal? Or did she see the very capable mind and heart of an interested human male hiding behind that furry façade?   He didn’t know. Only time would tell, he supposed. Putting such thoughts from his mind, Jak turned back to the last of his beer.

It was a few minutes later when Daxter spoke up. His voice, quieter than usual for him, nevertheless sounded overly loud in the empty bar.

“Hey, Jak?”

“Yeah?”

Dax slowly propped himself up on shaky arms, then somehow got his feet underneath him again. “Could you do a lil’ somethin’ fer me?”

Jak watched warily as the ottsel inched steadily nearer, along the edge of the bar. He was half waiting for Dax to topple right off and hit the floor with a thump and a slosh of all the liquor in his gut. Daxter never drank this much in one sitting. Or, at least not that Jak had seen. They had only been back in each others’ lives for a couple of weeks. Still, the green-blonde somehow suspected that this sort of fall-down-drunkenness wasn’t normal behavior for his friend.

Cautiously Jak reached out a hand, ready in case he had to dart and catch Dax before he fell on his head. “I guess so. What do you need?”

Daxter stopped a little over an arm’s length away. He looked uncomfortable, shifting his feet and rubbing a forearm absently. His ears slowly fell. He wouldn’t meet Jak’s eye. It made Jak wonder just what this request would entail, and he actively hoped Dax wasn’t going to ask him for more booze. That was the last thing the little guy needed.

“What? You can tell me. What is it you want?”

“It’s… um. Could you pet me fer a while?”

Jak blinked. Well. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that. Dax had never asked that of him before. Hell, he hadn’t even known the ottsel liked to be petted—when the one doing the petting wasn’t a pretty girl, that is. Tess didn’t count, as she could probably stick pins into Daxter and be allowed to get away with it. Still… he didn’t see the harm in granting his friend’s request. Maybe Dax was just an affectionate drunk.

“Okay. Come here, then.”

Looking somehow relieved, Daxter crept closer. Jak drained the last of his beer and pushed the mug aside to be dealt with in the morning. Invitingly, he raised a hand. Almost immediately a furry shoulder was pressed against his palm as Dax sighed softly and settled in, glassy blue eyes drifting shut.

“So I just… pet?”

“Yep. Go ta town, big guy.”

Uncertainly, Jak began to move his hand. He moved from the shoulder to the back of his friend’s neck, stroking down his back slowly. Smooth fur whispered under his fingers. When Daxter didn’t show any signs of disliking the treatment Jak repeated the motion, this time curling his hand around the ottsel’s thick tail and following it all the way to the tip. At that Dax hunched forward slightly, ears flicking as he gave a quiet squeak. His enjoyment was obvious.

Jak cleared his throat. This was more than a little strange.

He had scratched Dax behind the ears before. Ruffled those same ears teasingly. Scratched under a lifted chin. He had even picked his smaller companion up before, and of course Dax rode contentedly on his shoulder wherever they went. But he had never petted Daxter. Not like this. Sure he might have hesitantly traced his fingers through the fur on a gently rising and falling side once or twice when the tuckered out ottsel slept, back in the beginning when he could still hardly believe that this little ball of orange fuzz was really his best friend. It seemed like a very long time ago, now. But this time Daxter was awake, and asking for it.

“Is this alright?” He felt like he had to ask.

“Yeah, it’s great. Just… great.” Dax seemed to be having a hard time staying on his feet. Though Jak tried his best to be relatively gentle the ottsel was swaying back and forth under his hand, leaning into the touch and sometimes missing the mark.

Damn, that fur was soft. It slipped through his fingers like satin, and Jak was glad he had taken his gloves off hours ago. Then he blushed slightly at the thought. This was weird. Daxter was a person inside, even if he did happen to look like an animal at the moment. You didn’t enjoy petting people. Even if they were your best friend, and you did owe them your freedom and quite possibly your sanity. Even if they were really, really cute and fluffy and… Jak suddenly felt that he was doing something he shouldn’t be. Before he could say as much, though, Daxter missed his hand and fell flat on the bar beside it.

“Oww.”

Jak winced, even though he had his suspicions that the very short fall hadn’t hurt one bit. “You okay?”

“I… I think…” Daxter stayed down, sprawled out across the cool surface of the counter. He wriggled, as if in some kind of discomfort, but made no attempt to get back up. “I feel sick.”

The reaction was instinctive. With one hand Jak swept the ottsel across the polished wood, away from himself. “Whoa! Like, puking sick?”

“No, not puking sick! I felt sick before we even started drinkin’!” Rather clumsily Daxter regained his feet, beyond indignant at being forcibly ejected from the green-blonde’s space. “I’ve not felt right fer a couple’a days—why’d ya think I was chuggin’ so much tonight? I’m tryin’a make the weird go ‘way. So relax, dummy, I’m not gonna upchuck on ya if that’s what yer worried about.”

“Oh.”

Jak, not nearly as buzzed as his smaller friend, was about to start a very persuasive argument about Dax’s current drunken state and the powers of deductive reasoning when something occurred to him. Daxter had just said that he hadn’t been feeling well for multiple days. Why had Jak not noticed this? As well as he could, he tried to think back. Yes, he could dimly recall the ottsel being quieter and more subdued than usual. Dax hadn’t eaten very much lately, either, no matter how many of his favorite nibbles Jak offered him. Maybe the little guy really was sick.

Concerned, Jak beckoned him closer again. “Uh, sorry I pushed you away, then. But I don’t think drinking yourself blind is gonna help much. If you’re feeling that bad, should we get a doctor?”

Would a doctor even bother to look at an ottsel? Maybe they needed a veterinarian instead. How much would that cost? He didn’t have any money. Would Torn cough up for an expense like that? Maybe Tess could lend them some. Wait. Would even a vet have the medical knowledge to treat such a rare creature as an ottsel? Jak was about to commence getting seriously worried when Daxter made a very rude noise with his tongue, a clear dismissal of the thought.

“Chill out, Jakkie-boy. I don’t need no doctors. I just feel… weird.”

“Weird like how?”

Reluctantly Daxter elaborated. “Weird like I can’t sleep. I don’t wanna eat. I can’t stay still—I mean, more than usual. I feel hot ‘n’ itchy, but I can’t scratch it. It’s like it’s under my skin or somethin’.”

“You liked it when I scratched,” Jak pointed out.

“Yeah, well, you were touchin’ me. Touchin’ feels fan-tas-tic all’a sudden.” That dreamy look was appearing in the ottsel’s eye again. He leaned in slowly, as if his actions wouldn’t be noticed if he didn’t go too fast. Jak didn’t move as Daxter wormed his way back underneath a large hand. “So, on that note. Keep pettin’ me, huh buddy? Ya don’t know how good it feels.”

Still confused and a little concerned, Jak nevertheless did as he was asked. If it made his friend feel better and cost nothing but a bit of silly discomfort on his part then he was more than willing to keep stroking that wonderfully soft coat.

After a few more rounds of running his hand from nape to tail, Jak began to use a little more pressure. Maybe something more massage-like would help relax Daxter. He kneaded small muscles with gentle fingers, not missing the way Dax trembled and whimpered and sank lower to the bar again. Good. It must have been working. Feeling triumphant that he was doing well, Jak went in for the grand finish. He tugged lightly on the loose skin at the back of the ottsel’s neck, earning a startled gasp. Then he cupped his hand around Daxter’s ribs and squeezed firmly down his middle, over his hips, and to the base of his tail. There. That should relax the little—

The loud moan that Daxter let out was absolutely shocking. Jak balked, more confused than ever as his small friend’s front half all but crumpled to the bar top and his rear half suddenly went into the air with a jerk of long back legs and wiry hips. Dax’s tail went up, too, curling over the top of his back in a perfect crescent shape. Jak didn’t doubt he would have gotten quite the interesting eyeful if Daxter hadn’t been facing mostly toward him, and the wayward thought made him flush.

“Dax, what—?”

“Do that again!” The tone was need incarnate. “Jak, please, just like that—again!”

Dumbfounded, the green-blonde watched as his small friend’s hands clenched under the yellow fur of his chest, rarely-seen claws digging into the wood. Back legs spread wider, larger rear claws actually scratching light furrows in the bar as toes flexed for more purchase. His tail lowered but immediately fell off to the side, out of the way and out of mind.

Jak frowned, puzzled. This seemed familiar, somehow. He tried his best to think. Now where had he seen something like that before? Somewhere, somewhere…

That was where. Around the Farmer’s hut back in Sandover. Every spring this sort of behavior had gone on among the animals there, followed by activities that made stupid, barely-pubescent kids blush, giggle nervously, and quickly find somewhere else to look. And all at once, with terrible clarity, Jak felt that he knew what was going on. His eyes widened, cheeks and ears lighting up with the force of his embarrassment.

“Oh, Precursors. Oh, shit. Dax, I… uh, think I might know what’s the matter with you.”

The ottsel shook his head in denial, letting his backside lower a bit but not abandoning the posture totally. It seemed like he didn’t even realize how lewd it looked. “Nuh-uh, there’s nothin’ wrong with me. I just want ya ta touch me! Please?”

“No, really. Something is definitely going on with you.”

Gingerly Jak reached out and pushed Daxter’s hindquarters back down to a more reasonable level. If he was right, then this was just cruel. Daxter went out of his way to act as little like a mindless animal as possible. Raw biological urges hardwired into his furry new body… It was a mean blow for fate to deal.

“Dax? Think for a minute. Have you ever felt like this before?”

Slowly Daxter appeared to settle somewhat. Thinking of any kind obviously took some effort on his part, so he lay down properly to better mull the question over. Jak leaned in closer to await the verdict. “B’fore? I guess so. I felt weird a lot while you were gone, Jakkie-boy. Nervy, anxious, no appetite. Heh, guess you could say I was a real wreck without ya. Hid it well, o’course.”

Despite himself Jak reached out a hand to comfort, feeling an odd tug-and-ache sensation deep in his chest. Daxter had missed him, too. Two years was a long, long time to be away from your best friend. Still, he couldn’t lose all focus. They had to get to the bottom of this current mystery.

“I was a mess without you too,” he said softly, wondering if the other would even recall the admission the next morning. “But, hey. Can you remember, did you ever feel exactly like this before?”

“I think so. Once or twice. But not totally like this. This right now’s pretty bad, pal. Pretty damn bad.” The ottsel nodded sagely, looking incredibly drunk—until he flipped unexpectedly, twisting up and over with the speed of a miniature orange lighting bolt, and grabbed the hand Jak had left innocently resting on his back seconds before. “Y’know what, Jak? You got the biggest, nicest hands.”

The hero’s gut did a strange flip-flop of its own as his hand was suddenly snared. The booze must have really slowed his reflexes; he never lost to Daxter at the slap hands game when they were younger. However, the unexpected move was not all that amazed Jak so. It was what Daxter did with the captured appendage that made his throat tighten and his mouth go dry. As he watched, not daring to move a muscle, the ottsel held Jak’s hand steady in both of his own and proceeded to bury his face in the rough palm. Furry cheeks were rubbed insistently against Jak’s fingers, the tingles of fur on skin making them curl reflexively and the rubbing to strengthen accordingly.

“Dax.”

He should yell it, not whisper it. He should demand to know what the little monster thought he was doing. He should order Daxter to let go and then put the ottsel to bed immediately to sleep off whatever was causing this crazy behavior. And yet…

“S’just nice, Jak. So nice.”

Jak sat rooted to his bar stool, watching silently as Daxter pulled his hand lower. He felt somehow disconnected from himself as he saw his own fingers slip through the thick ruff of fur on his friend’s narrow chest, felt the small torso rise up to press against the contact. Then he was touching a silky middle, soft and supple, flat stomach gently rising and falling with Daxter’s breaths. And then Jak saw slim hips shift, long legs gape wider. Clawed toes curled in anticipation and a thick tail twitched against the countertop. With the low groan that escaped the ottsel’s muzzle and the undeniable grimace of pleasure that spread across it a moment later, he knew exactly what was about to happen.

When the hot, moist length actually pressed against his palm it might as well have been scalding. The green-blonde jerked his hand away, trying his best to ignore the smaller hands that immediately reached out to pull it back and the yell that was so many things at once—confusion, anger, what could almost have been pain at the sudden loss of contact just when it was wanted most. Oh, this was so not good.

“Daxter, stop. You’re drunk.” He could feel the blush that had already burst across his face rocket up through his ears and cascade down his neck to spread underneath his new red scarf. One hand went up almost unnoticed to cover his eyes. So not good. “You’re very drunk and you’re in heat or something and I don’t—”

“I am not in heat!” Daxter’s hackles had gone up. For such a small guy he had quite the temper. “I’m not an animal! I’m jus’ a little edgy, that’s all!”

“Okay, okay, not heat. There’s some other word for it. It’s like heat, but for guys. When all they can think about is…” Jak was terribly distracted by the fact that, for all his apparent annoyance, Daxter had not bothered to move from his belly-up position. He hadn’t even bothered to close his legs. With iron control the hero did his best to keep his eyes averted from the little pink tip beginning to poke up through more customary yellow fuzz. He also steadfastly ignored the answering reaction of his own body. “Listen, it’s not your fault. It’s all hormones or something. You can’t help it.”

“Damn straight I can’t.” Daxter finally struggled upright and with alarming speed padded over to the very edge of the bar, almost nose to nose with the startled green-blonde. His expressive eyes were darker than usual. Almost predatory as he leaned in on a whisper that was clearly meant to be seductive. “But I bet you can.”

Jak didn’t say a word. He didn’t move an inch. All he could do was remind himself, over and over again, that he should not be frightened of his much smaller best friend. Even though his less rational side was screaming for him to get away, get the hell away, he will bite your neck, man!

“Help me, buddy.” Far from springing for Jak’s throat, however, the ottsel merely leaned down to rest his palms on the strongly muscled arm still lying on the bar. “Please. Think of this like the biggest favor you’d ever do me. Ya don’t know what it’s like ta need it so bad. Ya can’t!”

Jak had heard newly captured prisoners, hardened substance abusers, plead and bargain with their jailors for a fix. Hearing that same desperation from Daxter was both scary and heart wrenching. For the first time the hero’s resolve began to waver. With much trepidation he raised the arm Dax was leaning on and gently touched the other’s soft foot paw.

“Are you sure? I could go wake up Tess. Maybe she would—”

“No. No. Not Tessy. It’s gotta be you.”

Jak thought about the adamant answer as small claws sank into the sleeve of his tunic, almost seeming to try to hold him in place. Maybe Dax was afraid. Afraid that such an extreme request on such short notice would scare Tess away from him. Or perhaps, just perhaps, it was Dax himself who couldn’t let his guard down completely with her yet.

“Why me?”

“’Cause yer you.” Daxter was nuzzling his fingers again, holding the back of Jak’s hand against his cheek in what might have been a last ditch effort at nonverbal begging. “You always take care’a me. I finally got ya back, I feel safe again. I can kip on yer chest an’ know it’ll be alright, nothin’s gonna kill me in my sleep.” The ottsel’s eyes were squeezed shut. It hurt Jak almost as much to see tears beading at their corners, feel a drop of moisture land on his hand. “Yer my best pal, Jak.”

Or maybe it was just about trust. All about the trust.

“Okay, Dax. Okay. Shh. Calm down.” Before he could change his mind and be tempted to simply shoo Daxter away to jerk off by himself, Jak reached out and gathered his smaller friend close. Dax squeaked in surprise but immediately latched onto the front of Jak’s tunic with hardly a struggle. Feeling out of his head, Jak allowed himself to hug the ottsel tightly, his goateed chin knocking Daxter’s goggles askew. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

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To be continued.

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(2^nd)AN: Yeah, there’s more. A lot more. I’ll post it, if you like. Feel free to let me know, yea or nay.
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