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Rule 39	By : grimreaperchibi Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 3977 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Jak & Daxter, nor the places, people, or objects within. I make no money writing this.

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A/N: To Robin, from one shameless fangirl to another. I got them into this mess and I'll get them back out. Maybe. I hope.
This story is written with permission and will continue for as long as she wants to let me screw with characters. Tags are subject to change. Ready for a ride? Good. Me neither. Just hang on and hope for the best.
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Rule #18: Clean up the mess you make.
Razer paused what he was doing and tried to convince himself he did not need another cigarette. As a general rule, it was a bad idea to have immolating objects around flammable liquids and gases, but what the hell? He’d been full of bad ideas recently. One more added to the list wasn’t going to kill him. Or rather, if it did, his stupidity would be short lived, ultimately leaving the world free from it for a very long time.
With a derisive snort, he pushed away from the car. He needed another cigarette like he needed a tire iron to the head. That’s why he was here after all, in the most deserted part of the parking garage, working on a vehicle that already ran better than brand new. Because he didn’t smoke around inherent combustibles and he’d already chained away more than his weekend’s allotment earlier this morning. He still found himself wiping his hands on a nearby grease rag before reaching for his jacket, once more resolving that this was absolutely the last one. At least this time, the promise was going to be easy to keep—it literally was his last one. In his frustration and want for a little mental silence, Razer had gone through the entire pack without ever realizing it. And it was going to be another week before he’d be able to buy more.
He took a deep breath and sighed. It was official now. The universe hated him.
A part of him chastised the rest for such a melodramatic remark, but he ignored it. He had a right to a bit of self-pity. He was forced to live with the most inattentive and dense human being that ever existed, after all. Since the day they had moved in together, he’d been up front about his preference in bedmates and the fact that he was not the kind of man who enjoyed celibacy. When that had failed to send the other running as it had his first set of roommates, it had only been natural to try and tempt the man. And why not? Phoenix was very pleasing to the eye with that solid, athletic build, well kept long hair and even all that metal in his ears. He had the right timber in his voice that made listening to him easy on a normal basis, never mind the kind of growl it would probably produce given the right motivation. Not to mention that they were going to be sharing the same intimate space for the next nine months. It was a near perfect setup…and an equally perfect downfall. Razer had all but tattooed an invitation for casual relations to his ass to no avail, and he was beginning to suspect even that wouldn’t gain the football player’s undivided attention. His roommate responded to nothing he said or did. Blank, or worse yet, slightly confused looks were the only answers he ever got. He’d seriously had more luck picking up straight brick walls than he was having with Phoenix.
He lit his last chance for sanity and stepped further away from the car. Leaning against the garage’s concrete balustrade, Razer started coming to grips with the fact that yes, this really was all his own doing. He’d been the one to get caught up in the moment at that stupid football game. He’d been the one to let his emotions rush him to a conclusion that was clearly false. And then he’d tried to cover that mistake with another by giving into the kicked puppy look Phoenix had given him after insisting they stay away from the Quad party, leaving him hip deep in consequences that were continuing to stack up. There were a dozen different places he could have stopped, taken a much needed moment to actually think, and ended this horrible spiral before it had gotten so out of control. But he hadn’t. Therefore, he had no one but himself to blame for this mess he was in. What had started out as a challenge, trying to charm and seduce someone so oblivious, had quickly turned into a frustrating act of recurring futility. A broken cycle he seemed more helpless to stop than his search for another cigarette. Why did he keep trying?
He smiled ruefully as he flicked some of the ash away. It was probably nothing more than he deserved for being a rutting pig—
A noise drew Razer’s attention up, scattering his already flighty thoughts. Someone was approaching with quick, but fluid steps. At first, he was inclined to think it some student coming to collect their own car. There were still a fair number of vehicles around him and he had nodded in greeting more than once to someone leaving or returning. Then he actually looked and swore. It was Phoenix, heading in an unerringly straight line right for him. For the briefest of seconds, Razer panicked. Just because he was ready to admit and accept responsibility for his actions did not mean he was ready to make amends for them yet. And it wasn’t like he could downplay or ignore the other’s approach while standing out in the open. He couldn’t even hide or run away, not while pieces of his car were still scattered about. A fleeting thought was given to simply throwing himself over the railing he was leaning against. A three story drop would hurt, but people had survived longer falls before…
Finally, his twenty-four years of self-restraint decided to kick in. This was why he was in such dire straits to begin with—because he kept trying to avoid the base issue. The problem needed to be dealt with sooner than later, even if he would have preferred not this soon. Fighting it was only going to make everything that much more difficult. He’d stand his ground like the man he was supposed to be and deal with the consequences. So he relaxed as best he could, determined to enjoy his last smoke before the firing squad showed up.
The most immediate thing noticed as Phoenix approached was the bandage taped over one eye, a mocking white under a fringe of black hair. It was still far bigger than necessity called for, the awkward location on the brow hindering the use of anything smaller, but it was secure and clean. A bit of bruising could be seen peaking around the edges. Otherwise, Phoenix seemed none the worse for his injury or a night of drinking. In fact, he was rather aggravatingly clean and chipper, freshly washed and dressed, seemingly without a care in the world while Razer stood there, rumpled, oily, and very irked by everything around him. Life was rarely fair, but this was beyond the bounds of unfair.
“Hey-ho,” Phoenix said by way of greeting, that easy smile of his as disarming as ever. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”
One of Razer’s eyebrows quirked. The other had been looking for him? He didn’t know if he liked that or not… “And indeed, you have found me,” he replied dryly. “I was to be somewhere else?”
“Not that I know of. I just…” Phoenix floundered for a second. “I hadn’t seen you all day, is all.” He nodded to the car. “Still giving you issues?”
“Of a sort.”
“Something I can do to help?”
Stop being so damn naive? Razer snarled to himself, purposefully taking a long drag to swallow the words as well as appear to think it over. “No, thank you. I prefer my hands being the only ones to mess things up and I’m nearly done as it is.” Phoenix nodded absently, looking around like he was trying to find something else to talk about, standing just far enough away to be dismissed if asked. Very unusual for someone who was so confident and self-assured that he just invaded people’s personal space without a second thought and rarely received a bad reception for doing so. He looked rather pitiful all things considered, with that oversized bandage and suddenly unsure expression, making it quite impossible to be more than indulgently frustrated with him at the moment.
Razer suppressed another sigh, taking the required next step. “Is there something you needed from me?” he prompted.
“I…wanted to apologize. Again. For last night.” Phoenix ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. “You went out of your way for me several times and all I did was antagonize you further. I’m sorry.” He held up a plastic bag with a semi-hopeful smile. “I brought food. I figured if you were here, working, you probably hadn’t eaten anything.”
Ah, yes. This was why he kept trying. Because every once in a great while, the other showed the spark of true thought, that he was more than the idiot jock he acted like most of the time. A side seen just enough to give one vain hope. And he was hungry. As soon as Torn had gotten the room open, Razer had grabbed his stuff and vanished, more intent on putting distance between him and the object of his hard-on than much else. He hadn’t even changed clothes. Now his stomach was reminding him dinner had been a very long time ago. Add to that the fact that Phoenix had obviously gone out of his way to do this and suddenly, he’d become an idiot and a jerk to refuse. Still, the bag was eyed skeptically. “Should I even ask?”
“Curry.” The grin returned full force as he finally stepped past the point of courtesy. “I’ve heard from some of the other guys that it’s really good. Thought we could give it a whirl.”
Honestly at that point, if it was hot and remotely food-like in nature, Razer was all for it, his aversion to most take-out be damned. He gestured vaguely to the empty space beside him as he put out his cigarette. Phoenix took the invitation readily, handing over a styrofoam container and plastic utensils. Not really the most appetizing thing to be handed, but beggars didn’t get to be choosers. At least the contents it held within smelled good and had recognizable pieces of vegetable matter. He just wouldn’t think about the rest of it. It was a pleasant surprise to find it wasn’t all that bad; a little hotter than was his personal taste, somewhat richer, too, but over all extremely satisfying. To his relief, Phoenix seemed content to eat in silence, absently looking over the pieces of engine still lying about. One could see the wheels turning behind intent blue eyes, putting it all back together, making adjustments, trying to figure out what needed to be done next, or more likely, what Razer had been trying to accomplish by stripping these particular pieces out.
That had been a jaw dropping moment, to realize that his roommate did indeed understand the mechanics and physics behind the machines he seemed to love more than anything else. For someone with their head always in the clouds, maybe dreams of flying weren’t that far out of the question. That inadvertent genius had certainly saved him several days’ worth of aggravation. He’d been just about ready to throw in the towel on the whole damn thing when Phoenix, finally tired of his grumbling, had listened to the problem and offered a solution—check the battery fluid. And when an explanation was demanded, one was given with such an eloquent and logical backing that Razer felt quite stupid afterwards for not thinking of it himself. It was such a simple, dumb thing to overlook, and it had saved him from junking his everyday car and starting over completely from scratch. A pity all that savant brilliance was buried so deeply behind the façade of a ditzy, athletic freshman.
As usual, Phoenix inhaled his food, easting so fast it was a wonder if any of it had been tasted somewhere along the line. The now empty food container had been set aside and though his eyes were still roving over the car parts, it was obvious Phoenix’s attention was elsewhere. He was absently rubbing the back of his neck, looking slightly less composed than he had before. Given his current disgruntled disposition, Razer couldn’t help but poke. “You know, if you ate at a slightly more sedate pace, you wouldn’t suffer quite so much with indigestion.”
A slightly pained laugh was the response. “I think I would be happier if it was my stomach. Then I could just be sick and done with it. No, this is just my head reminding me, once again, that you were right last night and that I really didn’t need all that alcohol on top of everything.” He chuckled again. “Though sleeping on that floor probably didn’t help anything either.”
“I’m sure I could help you rub some of that tension out,” Razer purred almost without thinking. “My hands are quite skilled at that.”
The background mental countdown started. Three, two, one. There was the blank look, followed by the innocent eye blink, and then the awkward-but-game smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather have a couple tabs of aspirin over a massage.”
…What was the expression? A swing and a miss. Razer plastered on the best polite smile he had and headed for his car, retrieving the requested medication from the first aid kit he kept there. “I owe you an apology as well,” he said as he handed the little white pills over. “I overreacted last night. To both your injury and to your mishap with the keys, both of which were honest mistakes. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Not sure why the hell you’re apologizing for that, but no worries. No harm, no foul, right?”
It was something of a miracle Razer’s teeth weren’t cracking under the pressure of his clenched jaw. Rule number four—sometimes you’re wrong, he repeated silently. Accept it gracefully and move on. And oh, holy damn, had he been wrong. He’d finally seen it, the recognition that more than just a neck rub was being offered, however fleeting it may have been. Whether he was simply too dense to realize it was the come-on it sounded like or he was merely ignoring it because he wasn’t interested, but too polite or something to decline properly no longer mattered. What mattered was that after a month of shameless flirting and innuendo, Phoenix had yet to say yes even if he’d never really said no. It was time to let it go and move on.
“Of course,” he managed to grit out.
The other gave him a strange look, but he forced himself not to care. It wasn’t his business. Not anymore, if it ever had been. He found his own head starting to hurt, the leftover meal suddenly unappealing and the food already in his stomach unduly heavy. He left it where it was and turned back to his car.
“Razer—”
“Thank you for the food, as well,” he interrupted, fastidiously wiping his hands again before reaching for the first piece of dismantled engine block. “You’ll excuse me, however. I really need to finish this before I lose the good lighting.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Phoenix was moving, not away as hoped, but to stand next to the open hood, in sight yet out of the way. When Razer continued to ignore him, he spoke up again. “Hey, are you all right?” he asked, concern lacing through his voice. “I mean, you’ve been out here all day, haven’t you? Jak said you exploded out of his room and nobody’s seen you since. I didn’t do something else to piss you off, did I?”
Pissed off? No. Left frustrated as all hell? Yes, in more ways than one. Somehow, he’d already known that the hand under his shirt that morning had been unconscious. He’d seen the way Phoenix cuddled his pillows, had known that left under a blanket that small the imminent possibility of replacing those pillows. He could deal with a little unintentional spooning because of that. He could not, however, deal with that hand touching, let alone stroking, that damnable scar. And knowing that the whole act had been unwitting and unremembered made the action all the crueler.
As tempting as it was to rail, they did still have to live together after this. Better to let it go than drag it out. So Razer chose a slightly less damning thing to admit to. “It doesn’t happen often, but I can have very vivid nightmares,” he supplied, ignoring the fact he hadn’t had one once since he was twelve. “Between that and waking in an unfamiliar room, I panicked.” He very purposefully caught and held his roommate’s gaze. “You have done nothing to piss me off. I am merely having issues asserting one reality over another.”
For once, Phoenix understood all the things left unspoken. He straightened up smartly. “Are you all right?” he asked in a much more serious tone.
“I will be once I finish this.” The emphasis on a few words and a bit of temper behind the voice seemed to be enough to close the subject.
“If you’re sure, then I’ll leave you to it.” Phoenix quickly collected his trash, pausing once more before leaving. “And, hey, if you still don’t feel better, you can talk to me. My granddad had some of the worst nightmares around and talking always helped him feel better afterwards. Bled some of the poison off, I guess.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Apparently finally satisfied with all his answers, the other gave a jaunty little wave and started walking away. Razer pointedly ducked his head under the hood so he wouldn’t stare at Phoenix’s ass. That wasn’t going to help anything, least of all that knot of tension in his lower belly, an uncomfortable reminder of exactly how long it had been since he’d last gotten laid. He glanced instead over to where the sun could be seen setting. By the time he got this mess cleaned up, it would be dark, provided all he did was reassemble everything. The garage lights might support him another hour into twilight. A long, hot shower could give him one more hour on top of that. All that still added up to returning to the room far earlier than he wanted. He could go out and try his luck with someone else, but the game held no interest for him right then. He didn’t have the gas for a long, meandering drive, either. A lone wander through the campus grounds was a bit more pathetic than he felt like being tonight.
Not that hiding in the garage, hoping his roommate would remain a social butterfly this weekend so he could lick his wounds in peace was that much less pathetic, but at least he could pretend he was doing something.
He sighed. Decisions, decisions. …He’d work as long as he could, test the limits of the dorm’s water heater, and then get a jumpstart on his homework. If Phoenix was still hanging around, he could escape with his books either to the dorm lounge or the SUB—there was always quiet and solitude to be found on the third floor. A plan formed, Razer tried to focus on what was in front of him, only to find his thoughts trying to escape again and his attention lacking. He needed another cigarette.
Damn it, it was going to be a long week.
***
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To be continued.
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Rule 39