Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Heavy frost covered the windowpanes the first morning of November. Overnight the chill wind had grown harsher and colder, whipping dead leaves into miniature tornadoes that broke against the bricks of Praxis Hall. Most of the dorm was quiet and still, its residents using the luxury of a Saturday morning to sleep off the shenanigans of the night before.
Jak hadn’t bothered to set an alarm before passing out, so he slept until he woke up on his own. It was something he didn’t get to do all that often anymore, what with morning classes and practices, and he savored the sight of real daylight outside the window. The days were growing ever shorter. Now it was usually still dark when he got up.
Still, even though he was wide awake, the green-blonde stayed firmly under his blankets. First and foremost, it was damn chilly in their room—the ever present cold of mid-autumn had become as normal as the pervasive heat had been at the end of summer. Staying buried until something forced him to move was the logical course of action. Secondly…
It was a toss up whether or not Daxter would remember kissing him last night.
I don’t know which is worse. If he remembers it and freaks out about it, that’s really awkward and sucks. If he doesn’t remember it, I’m back at square one, which still sucks. Jak stared up at the slatted underside of the bunk above him and sighed. There was still the slim chance that Daxter would remember the kiss and not be upset by it, but the quarterback wasn’t holding out much hope for that outcome. Odds were good that the almost painfully innocent peck from the night before had been nothing but a drunken whim.
Unhappy whines and twitches began to drift down from the top bunk, giving away the desperate struggles of someone fighting tooth and nail to stay unconscious. Jak winced in sympathy. Whatever got confronted or didn’t that morning, Dax was still his best friend. And if he didn’t puke the moment he sat upright, it would be a miracle.
Very quietly Jak got out of bed and slipped into an old pair of sweatpants and a sweater. Feeding soda and Twinkies to someone with a hangover just wasn’t an option, but the cafeteria had crackers and Gatorade aplenty. They could talk when Dax didn’t feel like death warmed over. Closing the door softly behind him, Jak snuck out.
- // - // - // - // -
When Daxter woke up he wished immediately that he hadn’t. The first thing he noticed was the pounding of his head. The second thing he noticed, as he carefully rolled over to bury his face in his pillow in a vain attempt to block out life, was the rolling rebellion of his stomach.
Oh, shit. Not good.
Very, very slowly Daxter propped himself up on his arms. He paused for a moment in said mockery of a yoga pose to make sure he wasn’t about to upchuck all over himself and his bunk. His stomach clenched in warning. Bathroom was needed. Bathroom was needed right the hell now.
Keeping his eyes tightly closed, the redhead carefully edged around in his bunk until one cautious foot could poke around for the ladder. Luckily for him, months of conditioning had toes connecting with the wooden rung almost automatically. Which was very good, because he was sure that if he looked down the vertigo would have him barfing all over the place, and that would be doubly bad with Jak right below him.
He was half way to the floor when he remembered. The night came rushing back like a series of bad slides on a projector presentation, swirling through his brain with one image at their epicenter: his lips, on Jak’s lips, under a fucking shrub, with squad cars circling like hungry sharks.
Now he really wanted to puke.
“Jak?” Daxter slid the rest of the way to the floor and looked into the bottom bunk. His roommate wasn’t there. “Jak…?” It came out more like a whimper as he slowly turned a dazed circle, scanning the room as if the quarterback would suddenly appear out of the closet or something. But Jak was gone.
I screwed up. I screwed up so bad.
Jak was probably gone because he was pissed off. Who would want to talk to an idiot who got so drunk he hauled off and kissed another guy out of the clear goddamn blue? Dax had to find him. He had to find Jak and apologize, apologize before it completely ruined things between them—
Bathroom. He needed bathroom, now. As high of a priority as finding Jak was, there was a priority even higher at the moment. Snagging the lanyard of keys off his desk, the redhead hightailed it for the bathroom as quickly as he dared.
The next ten minutes wavered back and forth over the line that divided torment and relief. Torment, because there wasn’t much more miserable than being sick on your knees in a bathroom shared by an entire dorm hall of guys. Relief, because somehow the violent expulsion of everything in his stomach seemed to ease the merciless pounding in his head.
When all was said and done Daxter left the stall feeling marginally more human. He washed his face at the sink and rinsed out his mouth with tap water, then blinked blearily at himself in the mirror. “Man, I look like shit.” He needed his toothbrush and a comb, and he needed to change out of the rumpled clothes he had fallen asleep in. Then he could commence tracking down Jak and prostrating himself in front of the quarterback in shameful apology.
Plan in mind, Daxter shuffled back in the direction of their room. He hadn’t gone more than a few steps around the corner, though, when he ran into unforeseen company. Razer was walking up the hall toward him, hands buried deep in his pockets and a deeper than usual scowl on his face. Dax considered. Sure he and the transfer student weren’t exactly best pals, but he didn’t seriously have anything against the guy, so he lifted a hand in greeting.
“Hey, Razer. You havin’ a super amazing morning, too?”
There was a slight nod of acknowledgement. “At the very least, my morning has not yet included the rejection of everything I consumed yesterday evening.” Razer stopped next to him and raised an elegant ebony brow. “Was it worth it?”
Dax blinked up at him stupidly. “Huh?”
“Was it all worthwhile? Was the party you were so desperate to attend last night worth performing the idiotic exploits of the intoxicated, a mad dash from the authorities, and a subsequent morning of violent sickness?”
Well, when he put it that way. Daxter winced, one hand massaging his temple even as his ears drooped under the weight of the other’s obvious judgment.
A sneer tugged at the corner of Razer’s mouth. “I thought not.”
That demanded some kind of comeback, even if the redhead wasn’t feeling anywhere near up to par. “Eh, whadda you know. Yer no fun.” Okay. So, not his best comeback ever. But he was in pain. It could be excused. “You, uh… you wouldn’t know where Jak is by any chance, would ya?”
Green eyes narrowed. “I am not your roommate’s keeper. If anything I would have expected you to know where he is at all times, with how much you follow him around.”
“I don’t follow him around… that much…”
“Of course you do. You trail him like a faithful hound. Anyone with eyes knows that.”
“Hey, shut up!” Daxter’s ears pinned back and his shoulders hunched defensively. What the hell was this guy trying to say? That sounded an awful lot like some kind of weird insinuation. “I do not—”
“Oh, you shut up!” Razer snapped, swatting at the air between them like Daxter was a bothersome fly. “I am quite frankly getting tired of this. The two of you are so pathetically oblivious it has crossed the line and become annoying to watch. You’re grown adults, but here you are, stumbling around one another like children playing blind-man’s bluff. It is far past time to stop this foolishness and address your feelings, whatever they are.”
“F-feelings…?” Dax stammered, so low it was almost a strained whisper.
Razer rolled his eyes elegantly, looking almost disgusted. “Yes, feelings.” The air quotations didn’t need to be acted out to be obvious. “If you have a feeling you would like to stick your tongue down his throat, do it. If you want to be fucked over his desk, do that, too. Just confront it, deal with it, and move on, for the love of God.”
All the blood abruptly fled Daxter’s face. His hitherto calmer stomach clenched into an even worse knot as he stared at Razer in horror. Is that really what he thinks when I’m around Jak? Is that really what it looks like? But I don’t—I can’t—it’s not like I’m HOT fer Jak or anything—!
Not now. He couldn’t deal with this now. Not right there in the hall where anybody could walk by and hear all this, with Razer standing there annoyed and frowning down like he was some kind of authority on feelings, and… and… quite suddenly the fear was replaced by a flash of anger. The blood that had drained from his cheeks came back with a vengeance as his hands clenched into fists. “Yeah? Well what the hell would you know, asshole? Yer so goddamn stuck up, half the time I don’t even think ya have feelings!”
Razer leaned back a fraction, eyes wide in surprise at the outburst.
“Oh, is that so hard ta believe? Well, I got a newsflash for ya, pal—you never act like ya give a damn about anything but yerself! Does it ever get old? Ridin’ around on yer high horse, lookin’ down on the rest’a us peasants?” He needed to shut his mouth. He really did. But now that he was talking, Daxter found that he couldn’t stop. The words just kept coming out. “You think yer so damn far above it all. You really think yer that much better an’ smarter than us? Think yer better than Phoenix?”
Razer seemed to twitch. His ears slanted back from their flabbergasted perk as his emerald eyes began to hood.
Daxter swallowed hard. He was going to regret this. Razer was his friend, kind of. He didn’t like to fight with people. But he just— “Newsflash number two: Phoenix ain’t stupid. He’ll figure out sooner or later ya don’t give a shit. Good luck spendin’ the rest’a the year alone when he finally gets it, ya arrogant jerkoff! Or is that what ya really been wantin’ ever since we moved in this dump—?”
It was more than obvious that he was seriously jerking Razer’s chain, but there weren’t any red flags going up. No warning signs that he was entering the danger zone. That was why, when Razer’s arm darted out like a striking snake and he found himself being lifted off the ground by the collar of his shirt, Daxter was almost more shocked than frightened. Almost.
It all happened very quickly. He had half a second to register the cold fury on the other student’s face before he was dropped, another moment to think of scrambling away as a door somewhere behind him was yanked open, and then he was leaving the ground again. The redhead went backwards through a doorway into shadowy darkness, flailing his arms in a desperate but vain attempt to block his fall. He collided with something—what, he couldn’t tell right off, though his weight displaced it and it fell with a loud clatter—and landed on his ass on bare concrete. He looked up in time to see Razer’s lip curling in a snarl before the door was slammed once again, leaving him in the dark.
After a few seconds of shocked stillness, Daxter slowly got his bearings. From the light of the hallway seeping under the door he could make out the pile of poles he was lying in to be… broom handles. His foot was in a bucket. Razer had thrown him in 3W’s utility closet.
Why didn’t I shut up? he thought angrily as he got cautiously to his feet. Why the hell didn’t I just shut my damn mouth? He knew why, though. Deep down, he knew.
He had been getting soft. He hadn’t been beaten up since starting at Haven U. Hadn’t even come close, since the incident with Erol in the showers months ago that Jak had stepped into and ended in Daxter’s favor. The redhead had let his guard down, plain and simple. Even if he had never pegged Razer for the type to throw someone in a locker—er, closet—he should have shut himself up long before the other guy would want to do it.
“It’s yer own damn fault,” he muttered to himself as he felt his way along the wall to the light switch. “Even if they don’t show up on yer ‘I smash heads’ radar, that don’t mean they couldn’t still hurt ya, moron.”
Light on, he easily found the door handle and twisted. Jiggled it. Nada. Apparently it didn’t open from the inside. Daxter sighed, slumping against the door. Figures. Somebody ought’a tell Tattooed Wonder ta put up a sign or somethin’.
Well, what were the options now? He could yell for help, but Razer might still be out there. The thought made Daxter shrink back from the door. Yeah. Better to wait a while and make sure the bigger guy was really gone before trying to attract attention. He backed nervously away from the door, rubbing his upper arms absently. It was cold in the closet; it lacked the air vents that the residents’ rooms had to keep it heated in the winter. Morosely, he picked a spot of floor uncluttered by cleaning supplies and sat down to wait, up against the far wall next to the deep metal sink.
It could have been worse. It could have been much worse. Razer could have rearranged his face for him, or decided to see if he would fit down the garbage chute inside the utility room rather than simply tossing him through the door like a used mop. It could have been so, so much worse and he was lucky to have gotten off as easily as he had.
So why did he still feel so awful?
“Asshole doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” he whispered to no one, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling into a ball to fight the cold. “Fuckin’ moron. Ought’a mind his own damn business. I do not have the hots fer Jak. I…”
Then why did he follow Jak everywhere.
Why did his thoughts usually involve the quarterback?
Why had he kissed his roommate less than twelve hours ago?
“Oh my God, this can’t be happening to me,” Dax moaned, dropping his face into his arms and curling into a smaller ball. There was nothing left in his stomach, but he felt nauseous again. His headache was back full force. “If he finds out about this… he’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill me.”
- // - // - // - // -
Jak stayed downstairs in the cafeteria longer than he meant to. He grabbed a box of saltines and a bottle of orange Gatorade easily enough, but halfway through the checkout line the morning’s gossip reached him by way of sassy red dreadlocks.
“Well, well, well. Looks like our golden freshman quarterback behaved himself last night. That, or you’re really good at hiding a hangover.”
Jak glanced up with a start, catching eyes with the one who was hailing him over the top of the candy bar caddies. “Oh. Hey, Ashelin.” While their halls might have been atbitter war, he didn’t have anything against their pretty redheaded ringleader. She could even be pretty cool sometimes. “What’s up?”
“Your coach’s temper, if the rumor mill can be trusted. Seems like a few of your team mates are in hot water this morning.”
“Oh, no.” Jak swiped his meal card, grabbed his crackers, and joined Ashelin as she walked out to a small table in the dining area. “I haven’t heard anything yet. Is it bad?”
“No one was nabbed, as far as I’ve gathered. Nobody underage, anyway. Mostly write ups for public intoxication and disorderly conduct.” She sipped daintily at her coffee, one hip propped against the table. “Not that you would know anything about that, right Jak…?”
He allowed himself a smile and spun the Gatorade bottle around his fingers. “Well, you know what they say. You’re only in trouble if you get caught.”
Ashelin laughed, blowing at the steam coming off her cup. “Ha! I knew I liked you, kid. It’s really a shame you landed in Torn’s territory.” She glanced down at the box of crackers he still held. “So, who’s about to puke their guts up? Phoenix?”
While that was actually extremely likely, Jak couldn’t back that up. He shook his head. “Probably, but I haven’t heard from him this morning. These are for Dax.”
“Huh. The little punk who made us lose the homecoming relay?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He likes to party, but he can’t hold his liquor very well yet.”
“Shrimp like him, no wonder.” Ashelin pushed away from the table. “It was nice talking to you, Jak. You’d better get back upstairs and cover your belongings in plastic until your roommate recovers. That or push him out in the hallway to be sick and make Torn clean it up.”
Jak smiled. “Are you and Torn ever going to get along?”
“Why the hell would we do something like that?” With that she turned up her nose, huffed loudly, and walked away.
With the RA gone, there was nothing for it but to follow her advice. Jak headed back upstairs rather guiltily. He hoped Dax was doing alright on his own—and if he had already thrown up, Jak hoped he had made it down off the top bunk first. The bonds of best-friendship were mighty indeed, but the green-blonde really didn’t feel like confronting the kind of splatter radius an accident from that high up would produce.
Luckily, there was no splatter whatsoever to be found when he got back to their room. Unluckily, there was also no Daxter to be found. Jak dropped the snacks on his desk and bemusedly let Killer out of his cage for the morning. “Looks like he managed to get to the bathroom without dying. That’s good, I guess.”
Still, after a few minutes of twiddling his thumbs Jak decided to go check up on the redhead. There wasn’t much he could do to help Daxter, realistically, but he knew better than to underestimate the power of a show of support. Maybe being checked on would make Daxter feel better by proxy.
He was halfway to the bathroom when he saw the lanyard. It was entirely generic, one of the same lanyards that every student was given during move-in week to hold their room keys and key cards to the elevators and computer labs, and it was trailing out from underneath the door of the utility closet. Jak stooped and gave a tug, and sure enough keys jangled as they hit the other side of the door.
Jak stood up and swung the door open, fully intending to grab the lost keys and turn them in to Torn. The bright light of burning fluorescents met him, immediately followed by—
“Jak?”
The surprised squeak brought him up short. “Daxter?” Sure enough, there was his roommate, huddled on the floor next to the sink and staring at him like a deer caught in oncoming traffic. Jak’s mouth fell open. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“I-I, uh—well—I—” The redhead’s ears fell as his eyes darted away, focusing on the floor, the wall, the mops in the corner, anywhere but on Jak.
Jak was laughing before he could stop himself. “Oh my God. Did you actually lock yourself in the closet? That’s amazing, Dax.” Honestly, he had never known anyone who had pulled that off without actually meaning to do it. “What were you even in here for?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Daxter muttered pointedly, still staring at the floor. His hunched posture got more pronounced.
The quarterback’s grin softened. His friend looked like the embodiment of misery. Cold, painful misery. “Okay. Come on.” He walked over and held out a helpful hand. “You look like you could use some aspirin.”
“I could use a good kick in the ass fer drinkin’ so much last night. An’ a good kick in the head if I ever act like I wanna do that again.” Despite the self-deprecating words, Daxter hesitantly reached up to take the offered hand. He wobbled as Jak pulled him effortlessly to his bare feet.
Reflexively, Jak held his hand tighter. “Jeez, you’re cold.”
Daxter glanced up at him and flushed before unobtrusively pulling his hand back. “Y-yeah, little bit. S’not bad.”
Okay. The redhead was acting weird. Something was up. And Jak had a hunch he knew what that was. They weren’t going to get into it standing in the middle of an unheated utility closet, though, so he turned and led the way back out into the hall. “Here’s your keys, by the way.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah… guess I dropped ‘em when—uh. Thanks.” Daxter accepted the keys and wrapped the lanyard around his wrist as they walked, staring fixedly at the dingy hallway carpet all the while.
“No problem. You want some coffee?” When they reached their door Jak unlocked it and stepped in, carefully guarding the gap with one foot at the ready to stop any possible escaping ferrets.
“Maybe. I feel like shit, honestly. The last thing I want’s ta puke coffee. That would burn like… like… like I don’t even know what.”
Uh-oh. Yeah, that hangover had to be pretty bad if Daxter had lost his colorfully descriptive language. Jak’s ears twitched in sympathy. “You should try to drink something, anyway. I brought you some stuff from downstairs.”
Daxter looked up from shutting the door, glancing at Jak over his shoulder. “Ya did?”
“Yeah. It’s not much, but I figured you wouldn’t really be up for a big breakfast.” Jak smiled wryly and made to collect the Gatorade from his desk, only to be stopped unexpectedly by a soft stutter.
“Uh, h-hey. Jak.” Daxter was looking up at him through the mess his hair was in, ears low and expression contrite. His eyes, his posture, every syllable he spoke dripped with nerves. “Listen. I… I’m real sorry I was such an idiot last night. I didn’t mean ta drink so much, an’ I didn’t mean ta… y’know. Th-that, that weird thing I did in the bush.” His face and ears tinged red at that, and he looked down at the floor for inspiration before glancing beseechingly back up at Jak. “Like I said, I’m real, real sorry. I swear I’ll never be that stupid again, Jak.”
Jak felt his chest twist unpleasantly. Daxter had his back to the door. His arms were twisted up behind him as he worried with the doorknob, like he was getting ready to make a break for it in the event that he needed a quick escape route.
“You’re not stupid, Dax.”
“Oh, whoops, you are absolutely right. What was I thinkin’? What I meant ta say is, I totally deserve a Nobel Prize fer the works of genius I performed last night. Maybe mass quantities of jello shots should become part’a my everyday routine.”
“You’re not stupid,” Jak repeated. He went to sit down on his bunk, moving slowly and with purpose, making sure there was no way the redhead could interpret the move as threatening. “And I’m not mad at you.”
“Ya should be.” A copper-colored brow rose, giving him a look that was both wary and incredulous. “What’s the catch?”
Oh, boy. Now what could he say? Jak had a feeling that now was not the time to broach the topic of growing man-crushes and possible experiments. So he went for the roundabout truth. “You’re my best friend. You’re allowed to act stupid sometimes. Act stupid, okay, because you aren’t stupid.” He gave Daxter a small smile, a soft huff of mingled exasperation and affection. “You’re kind of… an exception.”
“An exception,” Daxter repeated slowly, staring at Jak in obvious confusion.
“Yeah. You can get away with stuff that nobody else can. Why that is, I still haven’t figured out yet.” Jak smiled wider to show that he was just teasing. “Anyway. We’re cool. Don’t worry about it, alright?”
Several moments passed while Daxter watched him silently, the wheels obviously turning under that rumpled red hair as he sorted things out. Then, finally, he stepped away from the door. “Whatever you say, Jak. I gotta go clean up. I need ta brush my teeth so bad ya don’t even know.”
Though Dax was still twitchy, some of the sharp anxiety seemed to have bled off. Jak was glad. He watched Daxter dig through his wardrobe for fresh (and hopefully warm) clothes, Killer war-bouncing around his feet with morning energy. A rolled up pair of socks fell to the floor as the redhead dug, where it was immediately seized by the ferret and fled with across the rug.
“Hey!” Daxter yelled, grabbing ineffectually at his stolen property. “Goddamn it, weasel, gimme those!”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Jak dove for an interception, grabbing Killer just before he could disappear under the desk. A brief tug-o-war ensued. “Drop it. Let it go,” he laughed as he pulled the socks one way and Killer the other. Ferret jaws were strong for their size.
“My life is a friggin’ circus, I swear,” Daxter whined, massaging his temples as Jak rescued his socks from furry, slinky doom. “It ain’t enough I’ve managed ta lose three whole packs of socks before the semester’s even over, but the weasel’s gotta chew on the rest. It’s like he knows. He knows exactly how ta hit me where it hurts! Just like the rest’a the universe, apparently—”
Jak dropped the sock ball and put his arm around Daxter instead, pulling the surprised redhead into a one-armed hug that turned into two as Killer squirmed out of his grasp and onto Daxter’s shoulder.
“Wh-what the heck?!” Dax sputtered, stiffening up as he was pulled against a broad chest.
“You looked like you needed it,” Jak answered simply. Killer helpfully stuck his head down the neck of Daxter’s shirt, inducing a yelp and a squirm into their impromptu group hug.
After the moment of initial surprise, the redhead seemed to loosen up. He let his forehead drop to Jak’s chest with a deep sigh, not so much returning the hug as blocking out the rest of reality. It was probably helping his headache. “There is somethin’ very wrong with you, ya realize. You and yer weasel both.”
More than used to comments like that, Jak took it in stride—by ignoring it completely. “Drink the stuff I brought you, take some aspirin, and go take a shower. We can go for a walk when you get back. Some fresh air will make you feel better.”
“It’s cold out there,” Daxter muttered, not lifting his head. “Don’t wanna.”
“No problem. You can wear my jacket.”
Abruptly the redhead pulled away, reaching up to grab Killer by the neck scruff and lift the ferret from his shoulder as he did. His cheeks were bright pink. “Yeah, well. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
“Okay. Want me to come shower with you?”
“N-no!” Daxter backed toward the door, frantically waving Jak off with both hands. His entire face and ears were red. “No, I’m good, really! Be back in a few! Uh, bye!”
The door slammed and the green-blonde was left alone, wondering what the heck had just happened. He glanced down at Killer, who had been dumped on the rug in the process of Daxter’s quick exit. Jak smiled at the somehow bemused expression on his pet’s face. “So. You think he’d ever say yes?”
Killer sneezed and made a break for the trashcan, his favorite hunting ground.
“Good point.”
Jak changed into his jeans and shoes, confident that he could bribe his friend out of the dorm when Daxter returned. A walk in the cold air would do that hangover some good. And even if he would have to wait for a less anxious time to approach Dax with the idea of kissing minus alcohol, he wasn’t too disappointed. Sure, it could have only been the drink talking the night before, but Jak had a hunch that there had to be something behind that little smooch.
He just hoped that when he did get around to asking, it wouldn’t turn out to all be just in his head.
- // - // - // - // -
The walk turned out to be exactly what Daxter had anticipated: cold.
He and Jak had left the dorm aimlessly, picking sidewalks at random until they came to a park a few blocks off campus. As chill as the wind was, there were still preteens playing basketball on the leaf-strewn courts. Younger children, no doubt jacked up on their Halloween candy from the night before, clamored around the playground equipment, bundled warmly in coats and gloves. Joggers ran by on the paths, flashing bursts of bright color from their parkas and headbands.
As he had been so many weeks ago, Dax himself was grateful for the jacket Jak had lent him. He worried with the long sleeves as they walked. Yeah, he liked the jacket that was heavy and warm and smelled like aftershave. Even if it did still give him that funny warm squirmy feeling he could now put a name to. That name, coincidentally, was guy-crush.
The dilemma churned around in the redhead’s brain, keeping him largely preoccupied from what would surely have been awkward small talk, but luckily Jak seemed to take his unusual lack of chit-chat as a side effect of the hangover.
“Wait here a minute,” Jak said as they passed a stone bench with a good view of the river that twisted and turned at the back border of the park. Then he was off, jogging toward what looked like a hot dog vender’s cart.
Dax groaned as he flopped down on the bench, wrists on his knees. “Are you ever not starvin’?” he yelled after the retreating figure of his friend.
Oh, well. With Jak away from his side for half a minute he might be able to think a little more clearly. He looked out over the river to the nearly bare woods beyond. It was obviously time to come level with himself.
Okay. So. Maybe he did have a little thing for Jak. That didn’t have to be a huge deal, though, did it? As long as I keep my lips ta myself an’ don’t say anything stupid, Blondie doesn’t even hafta know. One little bitty crush on yer roommate doesn’t make ya flamin’ gay. Does it? I mean, just ‘cause I kissed him one time doesn’t mean I don’t wanna kiss girls anymore, he reasoned. Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. So this is still normal!
To prove his point, Daxter proceeded to ponder kissing a girl; one of the cheer squad would do for all intents and purposes, clichés aside. Yep. Said train of thought was still appealing.
Then, just for kicks… just a little experiment, really… he thought about kissing Jak again. Somewhere other than in a bush, facing threat of arrest. He thought of Jak sitting down on the bench beside him, leaning forward, and kissing him this time. Maybe a big hand on his shoulder, or on the side of his face. The blonde would probably be the kind of dork who would turn something like that into a topple off the bench to the grass behind it, a playful tussle in the leaves, strong arms pulling him to a warm chest—
“Dax?”
“What?!” Daxter crashed back to reality with a jolt.
“Are you feeling okay? Your face is really red.”
Shit. His hands flew automatically to his cheeks. “W-well, duh, my face is red. It’s cold out here!”
“Hey, at least it’s not snowing, right?” Jak sat down on the bench next to him and held out a Styrofoam cup. “I got you some hot chocolate. And a snack.”
Shoving his previous thoughts to the dustiest corner of his mind, Daxter warily eyed the paper bag in his friend’s hand. “Is it a hot dog? ‘Cause I gotta warn ya, pal, my stomach and me still aren’t speakin’ an’ if it’s a hot dog I might urp on it.”
“I know you don’t feel good. That’s why the hot dog is mine, and this is yours.” Jak dug his hot dog out of the little cardboard carton before handing the bag over. “I think it’ll be okay.”
Daxter peeked into the bag and pulled out a giant soft pretzel. It was still hot. “Oh. Uh, thanks.”
They lapsed into silence, Jak contentedly polishing off his hot dog and Dax nibbling at his pretzel. He wasn’t even remotely hungry (in fact he still felt positively nauseous) but there was no way he was going to turn down such a thoughtful gift. As they sat, a small gaggle of geese wandered by, heading inland from where they had been paddling in the river. To a goose, the flock stopped to stare.
Jak broke the last of his hot dog bun into tiny pieces and threw it to them. “Shouldn’t you guys be heading south for the winter?”
“Don’t let the cold front kick ya in the tail feathers on yer way out.” Dax broke off a section of the pretzel and pinched off little bits that he could throw. “I bet it’ll be snowin’ before next week. Better get along, little goosies.”
“You know, you can herd geese,” Jak mused as they watched the birds quibble over pretzel pieces. “Me and Keira and my dog Croc used to do it all the time when we were kids.”
“Why does that not surprise me…?”
“Shut up.” Jak gave him a light shove. “You have no idea what real fun is.”
“I was a deprived child. Gimme a break.”
The green-blonde’s smile faded at that. “I wish we’d known each other when we were kids. We would have had so much fun together. Probably gotten into so much trouble together. All three of us.” He looked at the milling geese thoughtfully. “… but, I guess there’s no reason we can’t make up for lost time.”
Daxter’s eyebrows met his hairline as Jak got up off the bench. “If you think I’m actually chasin’ those geese with you, you’re out’a yer damn mind.”
“Come on, Dax,” Jak said, voice hitting a playful pitch that was usually only reached when he baby-talked the ferret. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. Let’s go get those geese, now. Let’s go.”
“Dude, come on, how old are you, seriously!”
The geese, as though sensing imminent shenanigans, began to waddle away.
“If they make it to the river it’s all over! Come on, Dax, you have to be my right flank or this will never work.”
Dax laughed helplessly as Jak grabbed him by the wrists and tried to tug him off the bench. Just the thought of this was hysterical. And Jak was so clearly being a dumb-ass just to make him smile. “Jakkie-boy, have some mercy! I’m hung over, here! I already got a headache, I threw up, I got thrown in a closet—that’s enough fer one morning!”
Jak froze, his hands still gripping thin wrists, looking down at him with wide eyes. “You got thrown in a closet?”
The laughter died in Daxter’s throat like an ant under a boot. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Uh…”
“Who threw you in the closet?” Jak demanded. All traces of playfulness had vanished from his voice, and the anger that took its place made the redhead cringe reflexively.
“Just don’t worry about it, okay? I didn’t mean ta say anything!” Dax pulled ineffectively at the grip on his hands, finally managing to get free when Jak seemed to realize how strongly he was actually holding on.
“Of course I’m going to worry about it, you got thrown in the closet!” Jak groaned, exasperation mingling with the anger as he dropped back to the bench. “Since when is it okay for someone to do that?”
Daxter stared at the muddy ground between his feet. Shit, shit, shit. He had completely destroyed their good mood. Jak was never supposed to know about that, for exactly this reason. “I didn’t say it was okay, but it already happened. It’s done. It’s over. Just let it go.”
“Hell no I am not letting it go! Just tell me who it was. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”
“I don’t want you takin’ care of it, that’s my whole point!” Daxter threw up his hands. Dumb, thick-headed, good-hearted jock. “If we just let it go, it’s over. No more trouble. I do not like trouble, Jak. Trouble is bad. Why go makin’ it?”
“Because some asshole owes you an apology, and I’m going to make sure you get it.”
“I do not like that look, Jak. It’s not reassuring. Not reassuring at all.” It was the look of a bulldog with its jaws clamped around a robber’s leg, and nothing short of a bullet or Armageddon would loosen that hold. “Look. If I tell ya what happened, will you calm the hell down?”
Jak’s eyes narrowed. “I am calm. I’m very calm. I just want to break faces.”
“Yer not helpin’ yer case.”
The quarterback sighed deeply. “Okay. I promise I won’t do anything stupid. I just want to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Please, tell me?”
Forlornly, Daxter conceded defeat. Jak was never going to let it go. He just had to trust that his friend would listen to him. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal. I ran into Razer this mornin’ while you were gone.”
“Razer? It was Razer?”
“Yes, it was Razer. Be quiet an’ lemme finish. Like I said, it was while you were gone an’ we sort of… got in an argument. He said somethin’ that pissed me off, an’ instead of doin’ the smart thing an’ keepin’ my big mouth shut I said some stuff that pissed him off more. He got tired’a me runnin’ my yap. Shoved me in the closet. That’s all there is to it. I was dumb, I didn’t shut up, it was my fault—”
“The hell it’s your fault!” Jak exploded, expression so angry that Daxter reflexively slid backward on the bench to put space between them, even if the anger was directed elsewhere. “I don’t give a damn where he’s from, around here you don’t get to lock people in closets when you get mad. If he thinks he can get away with that he’s going to be very sadly mistaken.”
Daxter’s ears fell. He looked up at Jak worriedly. “You promised. Right? You promised. No bein’ stupid. No startin’ fights. Specially not with Razer.”
Jak glanced away, frowning deeply. No doubt he was thinking about the repercussions a fight with the exchange student would bring—namely, issues with the other exchange student, Phoenix. Jak and Phoenix were not only teammates, but good friends. And Phoenix was more than passing attached to his roommate, Razer. It was all a big, ugly, tangled ball of bad temper and worse decisions.
Finally, after what seemed like eons to the anxious redhead, Jak held out his hand. “I promised. No fights. But I want him to apologize to you. Apologize and mean it, preferably.”
Daxter sighed, a deep, relieved breath as he reached out to shake on it. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. As long as ya don’t make a federal deal out of it.”
“I just—it doesn’t make sense.” The quarterback was clearly at a loss. “I don’t get it. I know you and Razer don’t get along, but I never thought he would do something like that.”
“Yeah, yer not the only one, trust me.”
“Something’s not right about this. He was being really nice last night. He tried to warn me about the cops, he even offered to come help us if we needed it. Why snap and do that to you this morning?”
“I dunno. Maybe he had somethin’ else on his mind.” Whatever it was, Dax didn’t care to think on it any further. “Don’t worry about it, Jak. I say fer the umpteenth time: it’s not a big deal. And it’s still damned cold out here,” he added when Jak looked unconvinced. “Let’s go home, huh? I just wanna get warm an’ relax.”
“Okay. Sorry.” Jak had the decency to look sorry, too. “Thanks for telling me all that, Dax. Really. If someone’s giving you grief, I want to make them knock it off. I won’t let anybody push you around.”
Dax turned away and grabbed his cold hot chocolate from the bench to hide his sudden flush. “Cause yer a superhero, obviously. Fake-Jock Man, savior of wimps everywhere. Fightin’ locker room crime, protectin’ the puny, single handedly bringin’ about campus peace.”
Jak rolled his eyes as they started to walk. “Oh, great. Is this going to make it into those notebooks you’re always scribbling in?”
“Whadda you know about my notebooks?!”
It hadn’t been a great start to the month. Far from it. Daxter didn’t know what would happen with Razer, or even with Phoenix when he got involved. Classes and homework would only get more intense on the uphill slope to final exams, and then came the insanity of Christmas, which he had never been a big fan of. But where all that would once have alarmed him, now he felt strangely okay with it all.
Jak was still his best friend and, despite the redhead’s own recent stupidity, Jak still had his back. He couldn’t ask for more than that. So he would keep this moronic attraction to his best friend a closely guarded secret.
- // - // - // - // -
To be continued.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Room and Board