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Room and Board	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 25355 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the game this story is based on (Jak & Daxter) nor do I make any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Ch. 1
- 2-Ch. 2
- 3-Ch. 3
- 4-Ch. 4
- 5-Ch. 5
- 6-Ch. 6
- 7-Ch. 7
- 8-Ch. 8
- 9-Ch. 9
- 10-Ch. 10
- 11-Ch. 11
- 12-Ch. 12
- 13-Ch. 13
- 14-Ch. 14
- 15-Ch. 15
- 16-Ch. 16
- 17-Ch. 17
- 18-Ch. 18
- 19-Ch. 19
- 20-Ch. 20
- 21-Ch. 21
- 22-Ch. 22
- 23-Ch. 23
- 24-Ch. 24
- 25-Ch. 25
- 26-Ch. 26
- 27-Ch. 27
- 28-Ch. 28
- 29-Ch. 29
- 30-Ch. 30
- 31-Ch. 31
- 32-Ch. 32
- 33-Ch. 33
- 34-Ch. 34
- 35-Ch. 35
- 36-ch. 36
- 37-ch. 37
- 10
- 11
- 12
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.
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“Could you at least have waited until we get back to our rooms to put that on?”
“In a word—no.”
Jak laughed as Phoenix strutted past with his long leather coat swirling behind him. He was in too good of a mood to give his teammate a hard time about putting on his spectacularly steampunk Halloween costume straight out of the post-game showers.
The evening’s game, a simple exhibition to fill the gap between the end of the regular season and the playoffs that the Haven Warriors had already qualified for, had gone almost flawlessly. Jak couldn’t have hoped for more from his first season on the university field. Their inclusion in the playoffs had won over the last steadfast objectors to a freshman leading the team, too, making it doubly sweet.
Jak and Phoenix laughed and talked all the way back to the dorm. The chill winds that had been whipping the campus had taken a lull that night, and a giant golden moon was rising above the nearly leafless trees. A perfect night for a little fun and mischief. For the first time in a long time, Jak found himself excited for a party. This one was going to be fun. He could sense it.
“I’m going to drop off my things and text Razer to make sure he hasn’t set fire to his costume,” Phoenix grinned as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. “Meet in front of the Lambda Iota Tau house in half an hour. Can’t wait to see your costumes, mate!” And with that he was off, breezing down the hall in a way that definitely would have gotten him cussed at if Torn hadn’t already been hiding in his wardrobe from the shenanigans that would surely result when Halloween and a Friday night coincided.
The quarterback chuckled as he pulled his keys out of his gym bag. He and Daxter would have to hurry into their own costumes if they wanted to make it on time.
“Sheesh, pal, where ya been? We’re gonna be late!”
Luckily and unluckily, Daxter was already in his costume. Luckily, because it would save them time. Unluckily, because Jak was caught so far off guard that he actually fumbled and dropped his keys when he got sight of his roommate’s chosen outfit, one that had been strategically concealed until that very moment.
He laughed helplessly. “You little asshole.”
Daxter was dressed as a football player. The costume wasn’t nearly as well made as the team’s real uniforms and had obviously come off the department store rack, but unless you started looking at seams it wouldn’t be fair to quibble. Plastic shoulder pads and a helmet topped off the ensemble. The get-up was even in the school colors of black and yellow. This had obviously been planned in advance.
“Yeah, yeah. I know I look awesome.” The redhead smiled smugly behind the flimsy plastic face guard and polished his knuckles against the front of his jersey. “It’s okay, Jak, you can say it. I’m the awesomest fake jock ever ta fake jockness.”
The green-blonde bent to grab his keys off the floor, effectively breaking the stare he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Sorry, Dax, did you say something? I was so caught up in wondering when you went and joined the peewee football team that I—” The helmet came sailing at his head and Jak batted it out of the air easily, laughing all the while.
Daxter’s face was red under a mutinous pout. “Get yer costume on, smart-ass. I’m not gonna be late fer this shindig!”
“Okay, okay.” Jak dropped his gym bag and crossed to his wardrobe, where the costume he had thrown together the night before was stashed. “Seriously, though. You look fine. But I could have loaned you my uniform, you know. Would have saved you some money.”
“Are you kiddin’? I wouldn’t go near yer gear right after a game! You guys sweat like horses out on that field, don’t try an’ deny it.” He laid his ears back irritably and grumbled under his breath. “B’sides. It wouldn’t fit me anyway.”
Jak wisely sealed his lips together to keep another round of sniggering at bay. It wasn’t his fault Daxter was small enough that he probably would have fit into an actual kids’ size if not for his legs, which were actually pretty long. If his whole body had just been scaled proportionately bigger, he would have easily been taller than Jak.
“Okay, give me a hand with this stuff, huh?” The quarterback unceremoniously dumped his bag of costume components across the dresser. “These fake teeth have some sort of adhesive that goes with them.”
As he had figured, Daxter perked up at the request for assistance, and inside of ten minutes Jak was likewise costumed and ready to go.
Dax tilted his head curiously. “Not bad, big guy. But, uh… what’re ya supposed ta be?”
Jak looked into the large mirror over the dresser and shrugged. “Some kind of demon, I guess? I just thought the wig was cool and grabbed it.” It was bright white and shaggy, falling just past his own hair, and two long, black, sharply pointed horns spiraled out from the top. He had tied a brown headband across it and smeared his face and arms with gray makeup to match the clawed monster gloves that went with the wig. A generic horror outfit of shredded brown rags made up the rest. “Do my teeth look okay?” He bared the false fangs at Daxter and growled as threateningly as he could.
He got an enthusiastic thumbs up in return. “Looks A-okay ta me, pal! Now let’s get a move on before Phoenix beats us there an’ drinks all the liquor.”
Jak couldn’t deny that he did have something of a valid concern. So he took one last look in the mirror, grabbed his keys and phone, and followed Daxter out the door. And as he did, he happened to notice something he couldn’t help but suspect he would have been better off not noticing.
That costume, fake uniform or no, made Daxter’s ass look great.
He stared at it as he trailed after his chattering roommate, finally at peace with his desire to do so. Damn. I guess it’s a good thing he’s not really on the team. I’d fumble the ball every time he ran past me.
Then, just as they were stepping into the elevator, Jak had an amazing idea. His common sense fell down the shaft and he gave in to the sudden compulsion. As the doors slid shut behind them he darted out a hand and smacked the redhead firmly on the ass.
“Oww!” Daxter yelled, jumping like he’d been shot and grabbing the offended area a split second later. “What the hell was that for?!” he demanded, looking up at Jak in shock.
Jak just laughed loudly. “If you’re gonna be on the team, you’re gonna have to get used to our jockly customs. That was the first one.”
“If the second one’s an atomic wedgie—scratch that, if it’s a wedgie of any kind—prepare ta lose those fake teeth.” Daxter planted his back steadfastly against the wall of the elevator, suspicious eyes trained on Jak, until they reached the lobby. Thereupon, he promptly forgot any indignities to his person in favor of dashing out the door, chattering excitedly at the top of his lungs.
The quarterback just chuckled and followed him out. Even if the rest of the night completely bombed, it would still be worth it. He could only hope that the next time his hand met that ass, the two would be able to get better acquainted.
- // - // - // - // -
"Race car driver? ‘Cuz everyone knows how hard it is ta make left turns all day.”
An ebony brow arched haughtily. “At least I can make those turns. Even as a fake, you’re still lacking something of a credible talent.”
“Stuck up asshole—!” Big hands descended with great finality on Daxter’s shoulders, steering him firmly away from Razer before any more words could be exchanged. Very reluctantly, he let himself be led.
“Come on, Dax. Let’s go grab some snacks.” Jak glanced back to grin at Phoenix. “Have fun, guys. I’m sure we’ll see you around.”
The redhead grumbled as he was led away across the massive common room, almost forgetting the excitement of the party swirling around them in his annoyance. “If we do see ‘em around I’m turnin’ around an’ goin’ the other way. What is with that guy?”
“Forget it. That’s just how he is. You’re just how you are. You guys clash like oncoming semis.”
Daxter’s ears drooped. “I don’t try ta—”
“I know you don’t,” Jak assured. “Don’t worry about it. Some people just don’t get along, is all. You two are like… fire and ice. You’re the fire, obviously.” Jak’s gloved hand rapped playfully at the side of his helmeted head. “Now let’s find out where they’re hiding the drinks. I know that’s half the reason you’re here.”
It was impossible not to smile. “You know me too well, big guy.”
Their way was fraught with peril—raucously loud music, a malfunctioning bubble machine throwing sparks along with bubbles, an alarming number of students in varying states of drunkenness, and half the cheer squad that Jak had to hide from by pulling his wig down almost completely over his eyes—but in due course they reached the kitchen. As they pushed the swinging door in, the aroma of hot pizza wafted out. And there, smack in the middle of a small crowd of drinking, laughing partygoers, Ximon was costumed as a giant pizza slice. He was dancing the Funky Chicken.
Daxter put on the brakes so fast Jak ran into his back. “Ximon?!”
The blonde glanced up at him confusedly. “Dude?”
Dax pulled off his plastic helmet. “Dude!”
Ximon’s eyes widened in sudden recognition and he smiled widely. “Oh! Duuuude!”
Jak facepalmed, nearly taking his own eye out with the hard claws on his monster gloves. “Oh my God. Could you guys not do that? Please? My brain takes it as a direct threat to its existence.”
Totally ignoring his roommate for the time being, Daxter put his fists on his hips and grinned. “When are you supposed ta be back at work? ‘Cause if you’ve been shootin’ the shit here more than five minutes Taryn’s gonna kill ya.”
Ximon shrugged his pepperoni-padded shoulders. “Nah, dude, it’s all chill. I’ve only been here for—” He glanced down at his watch and blanched the color of new mozzarella. “Oh no, dudes! Hate to run, but I gotta kick my posterior into gear-ior. Laters!”
Jak stared as the delivery boy made a hasty retreat totally at odds with his normally laid-back attitude. “He acts like your boss will be waiting for him dressed up as the Grim Reaper.”
Dax grinned and helped himself to a handful of chips hidden among the towers of Pizza Haven boxes—he was really starting to get tired of pizza. “Replace her scythe with a pizza cutter an’ you’d be about right.”
“Sounds like my kind’a doll.”
Jak’s head jerked up at the gritty voice, and Daxter looked back over his shoulder curiously as the door of an extra-large refrigerator swung shut and the man who had been rummaging in it came into view. There, holding a tray over his head, stood a dirty-blonde with a ponytail. He wore combat boots, a red Rambo bandana, and what looked like a bandolier of dynamite sticks.
Jak groaned. “Oh, God no. You’re here, too?”
“It’s the biggest party of the semester, blondie-babe! Where else would I be?”
The nickname startled a laugh out of Daxter even as Jak angled his ears back and glowered from under his shaggy wig.
The new blonde shifted the tray to his other hand and lowered the first to shake Daxter’s. “Hey there, Red. I’m Jinx. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.”
“I’m Daxter,” he said, grinning despite himself. “I’m Jak’s roommate. And might I say, I have heard so much about you.”
“All good things, right? Blondie wouldn’t talk bad about his favorite teacher, would he?”
Jak threw up his hands in frustration. “Okay, Jinx, seriously, you’re not a teacher! You’re a grad student instructing a class for credit and doing a piss poor job with that!” He was ignored by both parties.
Daxter glanced up at the tray Jinx still held. “I heard you bring the booze, an’ that’s enough proof fer me ta think yer cool.” He lifted up on his tiptoes for a peek. “What’cha got there?”
“Y’know, I think I kinda like you, Red. Have one!” The tray was whisked down with a flourish.
The redhead was entirely unprepared for what he was offered. Suddenly a grid of colors was spread before him; a rainbow of tiny, liquid-filled plastic cups lined the tray like a Candy Land game board. He gawked.
“Jello shots, huh.” Jak didn’t sound surprised as he glanced up at Jinx. “You know you could get in serious trouble for this, right? Giving minors alcohol? And undergrads in the classes you instruct, on top of that.” But he was obviously fighting an exasperated smile as he said it.
“You know what they say, Blondie. You’re only in trouble if ya get caught. And no one’s gonna rat me out, now, are they?”
“I’ll take it to the grave, man, I swear!” Daxter grabbed a green shot off the tray before Jinx could change his mind. “Do these really taste like Jello?”
Jak took a cup full of red. “They taste better. Thanks, Jinx. I won’t know where you are when the cops show up.”
“You’re a prince, Jak.” Jinx hoisted his tray. “Well, gentlemen, enjoy. I’ve got a lot’a distribution to do. Dancing’s in the front room and on the back patio, I’d advise against using the bathroom here—go next door for that, trust me—and if ya happen to wander upstairs for any reason then for the love’a God don’t open any bedroom doors. Have fun, now.” Then he was gone, breezing out the kitchen door into the swirling melee beyond.
Unreasonable happiness swelled. Daxter’s smile was a mile wide as he held up and prepared to down his first Jello shot. “This is amazing! I can’t believe I’m really at a real party!”
Jak’s costume fangs flashed. “Start believing it so we can go enjoy it, huh?” He held up his own cup. “To stuff we’ll probably regret in the morning.”
“Hell yeah!” On impulse Daxter reached out and looped his arm through Jak’s. They both raised their cups, the first of many that night if he had anything to say about it.
Halloween was off to a great start.
- // - // - // - // -
Jak was enjoying himself. To his own amazement and happiness, Jak was actually enjoying himself at a party. He credited that mostly to the redhead leaning against him, weak-kneed with laughter and a few too many Jello shots.
Whatever his reservations around the “jock flock” when he was sober, Daxter loosened up beautifully under the influence. Jak had introduced him to the rest of the team—despite the redhead’s protests before the alcohol had a chance to set in—and within the hour Dax was the life of the party. He did most of the talking, Jak only interjecting a word or two here and there, and had whoever happened to be listening in stitches more often than not.
Currently, though, it was Dax himself who couldn’t stop laughing. “C-can ya believe we actually had that guy thinkin’ I was really on’a team? That was great!”
Jak grinned. “Well, Mog never was the sharpest cleat on the field. Nice guy, great defense, not so quick on the uptake. If he didn’t have Jinx looking out for him he might not live ‘til the weekend.”
“Heeey. Speakin’a Jinx.” Daxter propped himself up against Jak’s side to look around the crowded room blearily. “I think I wanna ‘nother Jello thingy.”
“Another one? Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Jak asked amusedly.
Knowing how much Daxter enjoyed the drinking aspect of the party scene, the quarterback had purposefully stayed mostly sober. He didn’t mind being the responsible one and keeping an eye on his friend. Alcohol wasn’t the crucial ingredient needed to have a good time, after all. So he had mentally kept track of everything Dax managed to get his hands on and tried to coax some water and juice into the redhead between stronger drinks.
“C’mon, Jak, just one more. Pleeeease?”
Jak considered the request. The smaller guy was already drunk, no doubt about it. He wasn’t slurring or staggering, though, and Jak was hopeful that the hangover the next morning wouldn’t be too terribly bad. Besides. Dax was having such a good time. “Well… okay. One more. But then I’m cutting you off for real, alright?”
“Deal!” Daxter agreed happily. He smiled up at Jak like the green-blonde had just told him he had won the lottery. His costume helmet had disappeared somewhere. Red-cheeked, ears flushed, hair ruffled, eyes bright, he looked—
Jak jerked himself back to reality. “Uh, I’ll go find Jinx. You just stick around here and… uh, look for your helmet. Yeah.”
“Sure thing, Jakkie-boy. Can’t be a fake jock without my helmet!”
Flustered, Jak hustled off in the direction he had last seen Jinx. Good lord. He would have to be careful about that. He couldn’t let Daxter get whatever he wanted just because there was a man-crush going on. Even if he was really cute.
Directed by several helpfully—if none too steadily—pointed fingers, Jak found himself back in the kitchen. Most of the food had long since been pillaged, and the kegs were in the common room, so he wasn’t all that surprised to see the room deserted. Nor was he surprised that the back door was standing half open. People had been running in and out all night, back and forth between the houses of Frat Row. Still looking for his wayward instructor, Jak moved to the open door. One look outside, though, and he stopped cold.
Jinx stood on the back steps under the glow of a streetlight, nose to nose with a police officer.
Jak instinctively ducked back behind the cover of the kitchen door, heartbeat spiked as a nasty surge of adrenaline overcame what little buzz he’d managed to get going. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
His thoughts were racing so fast he couldn’t settle on one before the next came. How had the cops managed to show up so quietly? How had no one noticed? Did he have time to find Daxter before the rest of the squad appeared to shake down the entire party? In the back of his mind he had always known that what they were doing was not only against the rules set out by Haven U, it was downright against the law. And while any instance of underage drinking would almost assuredly be swept under the proverbial rug when the football team was involved, regular students wouldn’t be so lucky.
As the thought blazed through his mind like a comet trailing cosmic dust, Jak’s mindless panic abruptly became a mission: Get Daxter out of here at all costs.
He was slinking backwards toward the front room, eyes still trained out the sliver of open back door, when Jinx and the cop changed positions. A moment later, the breath Jak hadn’t been consciously holding escaped in a relieved whoosh. It’s just a costume. He’s not a cop. He’s not a cop. It became clear as the man turned more into the light. No walkie-talkie. No gun holster. Flimsy fabric. A different hat than what campus security wore.
Jak sighed deeply and tried to coax his heartbeat back to normal. If Halloween was meant to scare people shitless, that guy had done a good job of it. Fright over, he went back to the door. He wouldn’t bug Jinx and his friend; all he had to do was find out if there were more Jello shots or not. It would only take a second.
“… I’m just saying that if I were you, I would think a little bit harder about what I was hearing before I shot off my rude mouth.”
“Yeah? Well if you were me then I’d be you, an’ if I were you I’d hafta kill myself,” Jinx deadpanned. “You gonna get off my back or we gonna duke it out fair an’ square?” He chuckled humorlessly. “Or you gonna call in yer buddies for real an’ be a puss about it? Sounds about right, for you.”
“Will you stop being so incredibly stupid and start showing even a hint of the brains it must have taken to get on in the chemistry graduate program?” the other man snarled. “You obviously have some clout. And you obviously have people who rely on you to do the work you do. It would be terribly unfortunate if that structure you’ve helped build up collapsed because you foolishly decided to not only give minors alcohol, but be caught red-handed at the party. Imagine the scandal, for one stupid mistake on your part. You’d have to quit. All the professors who helped you get on—humiliated by your behavior. All the projects you’re working on—unfinished. Is that what you really want, Jinx?”
“What’s your actual bottom line, here?” the blonde asked, crossing his arms in an almost bored gesture.
“Well, obviously. Considering what department I’m in, who I know, I can help you… shall we say, resolve the situation long before it comes to that point. All for the occasional favor from you. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?”
Hovering behind the door, all Jak could do was stare. Whoa. This sounded pretty serious. Was Jinx about to get in hot water so deep even he couldn’t weasel out of it? And even though he couldn’t see the second man’s face, Jak knew that other voice. From somewhere, he knew that voice. If the guy would just turn a little bit more in profile, he would—
“Hey, Jak, tell Jinx I wan’ a grape one! Grape’s the only one I ain’t tried yet!”
Jak let out a startled “oof!” as Daxter hit him from behind, thin arms going around his waist in a cheerfully, drunkenly oblivious tackle hug. Jak tripped into the door with a bang. It swung open wide. Suddenly he was standing awkwardly in the threshold, Daxter clinging to his back, staring eye to furious eye with a very familiar face.
“Erol?!”
Behind him Daxter gathered the sense to peer around and look, eyes wide. “Oh, shit, scary guy!” Then he did a double take and shrank back, keeping Jak firmly between them. “Scary guy’s a cop?!”
“He ain’t a cop,” Jinx interjected before Erol could do much more than angrily open his mouth. “He’s a cadet. Criminal justice program. He’s the best little fuzz in trainin’ I ever did see, though, I’ll give him that. Already got the underhanded part down pat. You’ll go far in the force, Inks. Now can we wrap it up, here? I’m gettin’ cold standin’ out here shootin’ the breeze.”
“I’m sure it will be much warmer down at the station,” Erol growled.
“I’m sure as shit it is. But you’ll be feelin’ the warmth right along with me, now, am I right? Crazy thing is, blackmail is totally a thing that’s illegal. And we got a witness who just happened to hear that goin’ down. Don’t we, Jakkie-boy?”
Jak met Jinx’s eyes over the tall redhead’s shoulder. His ears shot up in comprehension. “Yeah. I guess we do.”
Erol was glaring back and forth between the two of them now. The cogs turning in his head were practically audible.
“I’d forget it if I were you,” Jinx said amiably. “Yer buddies on the force might look the other way, but as I’m sure you know real well, the university an’ the police station ain’t on the same page. You may get me kicked out, sure. But we make a big enough deal, an’ you’re goin’ down right beside me. So don’t get any funny ideas, huh?”
“Oh, I assure you. My ideas are rarely funny.” A quick hand adjusted his costume hat. Then Erol walked back into the house, shoulder-checking Jak hard as he passed. Daxter let out what sounded like an involuntary squeak and quickly stepped out of the way, nervous eyes meeting the bigger redhead’s for just a moment before he was gone.
Jak turned to glare at the empty doorway. “You know, I almost wish he’d stuck around. I still owe him an ass kicking.”
A cold wind blew, sending a barrage of dried leaves rattling and scraping across the porch. Jinx grinned. “Yeah. Too bad he’s got too much brains ta get it on with you when he knows the rest’a yer team’s within earshot.” He put a hand on Jak’s shoulder, one on Daxter’s, and steered the underclassmen back toward the bright interior of the kitchen. “Come on, boys. I know where there might be a couple more Jello shots with yer names on ‘em.”
Daxter perked at once, the exuberant mood that had been squashed at Erol’s appearance blossoming forth again in his alcohol-induced haze. “Sweet! I knew I liked ya, Jinx.”
“Shots are in the fridge, Red. Middle shelf. Should be nice an’ set up by now for yer jigglin’ pleasure.”
Jak huffed as Daxter scampered by. He was still unsettled and more than a little angry at Erol’s attempted sleaziness—even though defending Jinx wasn’t usually high on his list of priorities—but he shouldn’t let that ruin what had otherwise been a fun night. He was moving to join Dax at the fridge when Jinx’s hand tightened on his shoulder.
“Hang on, Blondie.”
Jak looked back at him. “Yeah?”
“I don’t wanna alarm yer little pal, but… just between me an’ you. Keep yer head on straight for the rest’a the night, huh? I’d bet the rest of my semester’s stipend that scumbag went straight to call us out. He ain’t got nothin’ on me if he doesn’t want big problems, but he’ll sure call out the party in general for havin’ underage drinkers around. We’re gonna have company before too long. Be ready ta check out’a here fast.”
Jak looked over at Daxter obliviously trying to dig a stubborn shot out of its cup with a plastic spoon. He smiled. “I will. Thanks, Jinx.”
“Good kid. I’m off to start spreadin’ the word, if I even got time. Take care of yerself, take care of yer little buddy, don’t get picked up, an’ I’ll see ya in class next week. Later, Jakkie-babe.” Then Jinx was gone.
- // - // - // - // -
Daxter happily plowed through his long-awaited grape Jello shot. By God, these things were addictive! He could happily eat nothing else but these wiggly, jiggly little wonders for the rest of his natural life. He could fill a bathtub with them and swim in their colorful glory. He could—
“Hey, Dax?”
“Yeeees?” The redhead glanced up from the spoonful he was balancing as Jak walked over. Jinx was nowhere to be seen. He was a slippery guy, that Jinx.
Jak grinned. “So. Have you had fun tonight?”
“Oh, yeah! It’s been a total blast! Thanks fer bringin’ me along, big guy. Ya didn’t hafta not drink because’a me, though.” The thought made him frown. Drinking was fun! Jak deserved to have fun, too! “Here, open up.”
“Huh?”
“Open up! Say ‘aah,’ and all that jazz.”
Obviously puzzled, Jak did as he was told. He opened his mouth just in time for Daxter to dart the spoon in, plastic clinking against the quarterback’s fake fangs. Daxter laughed at his friend’s look of surprise before Jak reflexively swallowed the liquor-spiked Jello. It was definitely a great night.
“Those really are pretty good. We’ll have to make some in our room sometime.”
“Yeah?” Dax asked hopefully.
“Yeah. But right now, I think we better get going.”
Daxter blinked. Going? Going where? He didn’t want to be going. He wanted to be partying. He wanted to drag Jak back to the common room for more dancing (even if the green-blonde was way too embarrassed to show off their own personal victory dance that they did when homework got done or the room finally got cleaned or Jak’s favorite team won the games he watched on TV). Dax opened his mouth to say all this. All that came out was a very intelligent “…why?”
“Because—” The long, drawn wail of a siren cut through the pulsing music from the front room. Jak smiled wryly and thumbed toward the front of the house. “Because of that.”
A direct assault against the heat of too much liquor and warm house full of moving bodies, Daxter’s blood ran cold. Even with how fuzzy his mind was, there was no mistaking that sound. The cops weren’t fake this time. “Oh, shit! Oh, shit, Jak! We’re gonna be in so much trouble! We’re gonna go ta jail! We’re gonna get kicked out’a school! We’re gonna—”
Jak reached out with a huge hand and grabbed the redhead’s wrist. “We’re going to get out of here, right now. Let’s go.”
When Jak pulled, Daxter followed without question. In seconds they were out the kitchen door and across the back porch, hurtling a line of flickering jack-o-lanterns casting dancing shadows against the back of the house. A dark alley beckoned, but Jak tugged him in the opposite direction without hesitation. They were barely across the back lawn and darting through the gap in line of tall, closely spaced yew bushes when the bright beams of a patrol car’s headlights glared down the alley.
“Come on, don’t stop,” Jak urged when Dax stumbled clumsily. “We have to get off frat row!”
So they kept going. Jak led them a long and winding route through the backyards and backstreets of the neighborhood. Daxter stumbled along behind him, dizzy and lost but entirely trusting. The quarterback never faltered, keeping to the shadows of nearly skeletal trees and avoiding the ghostly halos of street lamps. The moon was high in the frosty sky, the sidewalks bare of the hordes of trick-or-treaters that had crowded them at sunset. For a moment they were alone in a strange, empty world.
Then a patrol car rounded the corner. Jak froze so fast that Daxter ran into his side. The redhead had one moment of sheer panic before his arm was grabbed and they were both hitting the cold ground.
“Under here!” Jak whispered urgently, pulling him under the cover of the low hedge they had been running down just seconds before.
Daxter lay still as a stone in the chill darkness, hardly daring to breathe. He was pressed close next to Jak in the dry, crunchy leaves that had built up underneath the bushes, while the leaves that had yet to fall made up a fragile layer of protection just inches over their heads on the lowest branches. He shivered violently as the beams of the car’s headlights inched past in a slow sweep, only feet from where they lay. Jak’s arm tightened around him.
After a brief eternity, seconds stretching into eons so slowly Daxter would swear he could see the icy dew collecting drop by drop on blades of moonlit grass, the patrol car rolled on. He let out a shaky breath.
Beside him, Jak laughed the bright, sparky laugh that only erupted when he was high on adrenaline. “See? I told you we’d be running from the cops.”
Relief washed over the redhead like a breaking wave. He slumped against his bigger friend, absently grateful for the warmth Jak provided even as he smacked at him halfheartedly. “An’ what the hell are you laughin’ at, ya nut job? We’re layin’ under a goddamn bush!”
“Better under a bush than in the back of a squad car, right?”
Daxter couldn’t answer. His head was spinning. Maybe that last Jello shot had been a bad idea. He looked up at Jak, the quarterback’s amused grin barely visible in the moonlight that made it through the thin canopy of shrub leaves. Dax stared for one beat. Two. Then he closed his eyes tight and leaned up to press a kiss against teasing lips.
Jak froze on a hitched breath. So did Daxter. For the first time in his life, his lips were pressed against other lips, warm and slightly chapped. The ragged fringe of Jak’s white Halloween wig was hitting him in the eyes. And there his brain stalled, unable to process anything more or less, until an unduly loud buzzing sound jolted him from his paralysis like a lightning strike.
Jak quickly turned his head, fumbling in the dark for his cell phone.
Daxter jerked his own head back. Whoa. Okay. Yeah. Wow. I just did that.
The glow of Jak’s phone illuminated their little cave briefly as he scanned the incoming text. “It’s, uh, it’s from Razer. Warning us about the cops. Jeez, he sent this like ten minutes ago. Thanks a lot, delayed signal.”
The redhead swallowed hard. “Yeah, no kiddin’. Lot’a good that would’a done us if you hadn’t been payin’ attention, huh?” Okay. Jak wasn’t freaking out. Jak was cool as a plate of fancy little cucumber sandwiches. That must mean he wasn’t mad about the surprise smacker Dax had laid on him. That was good. That had to mean that everything was alright, right? Maybe people kissed their friends all the time when they’d had too much to drink and their already soggy brains got swamped with a wave of gratitude and affection. Yeah. That had to be it.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“… huh?”
“Come on,” Jak repeated patiently, giving him a little nudge. The leaves rustled around them. “We need to get home. The cops are still out. Plus, I can hear your teeth chattering from here.”
“Hey, s’not my fault I get cold all’a time. This el cheapo costume didn’t come with a jacket.”
“It’s because you’re scrawny,” the quarterback corrected, voice teasing again. “If you put on some weight you wouldn’t be cold all the time.”
Daxter tried to come up with a suitable retort, but his wits were still on a Jello shot hiatus. So he said the first thing that did manage to come to mind. “Can ya imagine how many spiders gotta be under here, Jak? Just crawlin’ around in the leaves an’ makin’ webs in the hedge—”
There was an explosion of dry leaves and twigs as Jak shot to his feet, frantically slapping at his body and wig. “God damn it, Daxter, how could you even fucking say that?! God, fuck, shit—the frost killed them all already, right? Right? They’re all dead, aren’t they?”
“All of ‘em but the one on yer back.”
“I should have left you for the cops, you little jackass!”
The walk back to the dorm was full of whispered threats and teases, swaying shadows and smashed pumpkins. It had been the best Halloween Daxter could remember—probably the best one ever. And when they had slipped back to the darkened dorm like restless spirits and snuck past Torn’s door, a warm bed was waiting.
There was a quick wash and brush. Jak scrubbed off his makeup and pried off his fangs. Dax mourned the loss of his costume helmet but got over it in record time. Then they were both collapsing into their bunks for a well-earned rest.
“Hey, Dax, I just got another text from Razer. Says he’ll help if either one of us is drunk and getting sick.”
“There’s somethin’ very wrong,” Dax mumbled from the top bunk, one arm thrown over his eyes. His head was still spinning, but much more pleasantly. “Razer ain’t that nice. I think somebody laced his candy. Or he got sucked up an’ probed by aliens an’ they took over his brains.”
Jak laughed. “I won’t tell him you said that. Goodnight, Dax. Happy Halloween.”
“G’night, big guy. Great Halloween.” Daxter went dead to the world with a smile on his face, his last waking thought of how the faint taste of beer and caramel apple clinging to his friend’s lips had been an entirely unexpected, but no less awesome, treat.
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To be continued…
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- 10
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- 12
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