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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
- 17
- 18
- 19
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

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“So, wadda ya think? Am I sexy? Do I look stupid? Work with me, here!”
Killer, like the true friend he was, stayed fast asleep, an upside down noodle of fur on Jak’s bedspread.
“Why do I even bother talkin’ ta you, weasel?” Daxter turned back to the wall mirror with a huff, hands fiddling nervously with the collar of his new shirt. “Pop it? … too douchey. Leave it down? … too ‘school picture day.’ Damn it, why’d I even buy this stupid thing?!”
Outside the window, day was fading slowly into evening. The pale November sun sank sedately behind the bare trees and buildings of campus, splashing the rug golden for brief minutes and highlighting the shopping bags that had been discarded there.
The party was less than an hour away.
Daxter was utterly terrified.
He had been halfway to class earlier that afternoon when he’d had a sudden flash of insight. This party was not going to be a costume party. He was going to have to look good in front of the cool kids. And his threadbare jeans-hoodie-sneakers wardrobe was not going to cut it.
One panicked sprint to the bus stop, one skipped class, and one trip to the mall later, he found himself minus more than a third of his last paycheck but plus an entire new outfit, complete with new shoes. It was more newness than he had worn in his whole life, and he couldn’t help but feel paranoid as he looked himself up and down—a loser in cool clothing.
Luckily he had seen enough well-dressed guys on campus to at least have a notion of what kind of style he was after. Fall fashions were firmly stocked in the shops. All he’d had to do was go in and prowl the racks with the occasional tip from the floor attendants, most of whom had been roughly his own age and more than able to give good advice. In the end he had come out with a pair of skinny jeans that fit like a second skin and kept making him want to walk funny, a button up shirt in red and black plaid, dark gray flats, and a new wrist band. The last had been an impulse buy that had caught his eye at the cash register for the orange and yellow lightning bolts woven into the black cord.
Dax gave one last spin. “Well, I guess that’s as good as it’s gonna get.” He smoothed self-consciously at imaginary wrinkles in his new shirt. Damn, he hoped it would get Jak’s attention. He’d chosen the red over identical shirts in blue, purple, and green not only because of his own fondness for the color, but also because Jak had commented once on how well red suited him, when he had first broken out his favorite red hoodie at the beginning of fall.
“Fake jock damn well better like it,” he grumbled to himself, hands twitching up to worry with the collar again. “The things I do fer a little attention around here.” The redhead met his own eyes in the mirror and bit his lip gently, ears falling despite his best efforts.
He just hoped he didn’t look like an idiot.
There was a soft cluck from the bunk beds. When Daxter looked back, Killer was awake and staring at him with half-lidded eyes.
“What? Don’t judge me with yer beady little weasel eyes! It makes me feel guilty fer gettin’ drunk an’ puttin’ the moves on yer dad.”
His plan was simple and straightforward.
He would start drinking as soon as he arrived at the party. By the time Jak got there he would already have a good buzz on, and Jak would be given no chance to talk him out of drinking so much. He would then come on to Jak as shamelessly as his liquored up state would allow, letting the green-blonde know in no uncertain terms what he was offering. Hopefully all this would be done in a way that wouldn’t garner the notice of half the party. After that, the ball would be on Jak’s side of the field. If the quarterback liked what he heard, amazing. And if he didn’t, Dax would blame the whole episode on being drunk, beg forgiveness, and never touch the subject with a ten foot pole again.
What could possibly go wrong?
“Okay, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” Daxter picked up Killer, who offered no protest, and tucked the ferret into his cage. “Back later, slinky. Wish me luck.”
He couldn’t stay there alone in the room with no distractions, second guessing himself and getting more nervous by the minute. What he needed was something to keep his mind occupied. Pizza Haven was close to Frat Row. He could go grab a bite and chit chat with Taryn, maybe show off his new outfit before the moment of truth.
Grabbing his keys, Daxter took a deep, steadying breath and left the room. He could only hope his return would be triumphant.
- - - - -
When he reached the LIT house an hour later, the party was already gearing up to full swing. Uncertain of what to do without Jak by his side, Daxter stalled momentarily, hugging the wall near the entryway as he formulated a battle plan.
Then a large hand appeared from nowhere to land on his shoulder. The redhead jumped and whirled, looking up into the face of his new companion. “Phoenix!”
“Good evening, mate.” The running back grinned happily, completely at ease within his element. “Jak warned me you’d be on your way before he would. Nice digs, by the by.”
“Yeah?” Daxter shifted uncomfortably. The jeans really were indecently tight. But, all around him others were wearing the same without concern. He could deal. “Thanks. Just thought I’d shake it up a little bit. Throw on somethin’ that wasn’t a hoodie.”
“Banger. Well, shall we get you set up with some refreshments? Jinx will be heartbroken if his drink specials don’t get your seal of approval.”
Phoenix might not have been the jock he was courting, but at that moment Daxter could have hugged him. “Sounds good ta me, pal!” Then he caught sight of the can in the other guy’s hand. It was a vanilla Coke. “Dude. Do my eyes deceive me? Why is that not a beer?”
“Oh, this?” Phoenix glanced ruefully at his drink. “I’m afraid this is my regimen for the night. I made quite the arse of myself with the hangover from the Halloween party and I’m not eager to repeat the experience. I’m just here to mingle, really. Now that the football season is done and we don’t have practice or a game every day I’m starting to miss the lads.”
“Razer can’t keep ya in line?”
“He’s not able to be here this time. He has a project due first thing in the morning that he has to finish tonight. Not that I think he minds. Razer isn’t much for socializing.”
“Can’t say that surprises me like at all.” Daxter spared a somber moment to respect Phoenix’s decision to be a responsible adult. Exactly one somber moment. Then that was enough of that. “Okay, c’mon! Let’s go pay Jinx a visit.”
Jinx was, as predicted, in the kitchen. The counter tops were a forest of multicolored bottles. The chemist was busy tossing them up to whoever walked in, laughing and joking with everyone. He beamed when he caught sight of Daxter. “Hey, Red! Catch!”
The bottle that landed in his hands was full of blood red liquid. “What’s this?”
“That’s drink special number one—cranberry soda, cranberry juice, and vodka. I’m goin’ easy on ya for yer first round. The orange is yam, yellow’s stuffing, and the brown’s root beer an’ turkey.”
Daxter shuddered even as he twisted off the cap. “What’s the green, then? Green bean casserole?”
“I thought about green bean casserole. I tried ta pull off green bean casserole. I threw it up. Go figure. So the green’s just plain ol’ poached pear. Not all that exciting but adds some color—kind’a like neon.” Jinx eyed Phoenix’s soda. “Sure I can’t get ya somethin’ a little more festive, fly boy?”
Phoenix waved him down. “No thanks, mate. Tonight’s firmly a dry one. Though I do want at least a taste of that sweet potato vodka when you crack one, Daxter.”
“Yer a brave man.”
“Hey, Phoenix!” The kitchen door swung in to reveal the Haven Warriors’ wide receiver. “Come on, man, we need you at the ping pong tournament!”
“Are you sure?” He held up his can. “I’m sober. I might have an unfair advantage.”
“That’s fine. You can be on my team.”
The running back laughed. “Hard to refute that logic.” He turned momentarily back to Daxter. “Alright, I’m off for a bit. Enjoy yourself! If you get bored, come and find me. In the meantime, if I see Jak sneak in I’ll point him your direction.”
“Thanks. Have fun.” The redhead took a long pull of his drink as Phoenix exited stage left. “Gotta say, Jinx, I’m a fan of the cranberry. I mean, it’s not a Jello shot, but it’s pretty good.”
“I knew you’d like it! Don’t feel bad, though. Ain’t much can beat a good jiggle shot.” Jinx began to load a tray with bottles. “Babysit things in here for me while I make the rounds, huh Red?”
Daxter’s bottle, empty in record time, hit the countertop with a thump. One down. “Yeah, I guess.” It certainly couldn’t hurt to stay close to where the booze was. “Why d’you take it out there, though? Everybody knows where it is. They can come get it if they want some.”
“Eh, I enjoy it. Out there’s where all the fun stuff happens.” Jinx hoisted his tray. “Besides, the tips ain’t too shabby, either. Especially the later it gets and the drunker people are.”
“People actually tip you?” Dax laughed, reaching for a bottle of orange.
“Hey, they know a good set up when they see it. Hold down the fort for me, now. Maybe you’ll get a chance ta take ‘em round next time.”
The redhead grinned. “Teach me your illegal bar keeping ways, sahib.” Then he took a swig of orange and promptly gagged. “Holy shit, this stuff is horrible!”
Jinx’s laughter floated over the sound of the stereo system as he strode confidently out into the fray.
Resolutely, Daxter set his ears back and forced another drink down his throat. He wasn’t drinking for taste this time. He was a (more than slightly desperate) man on a (probably futile and extremely ill-advised) mission. He had no idea when Jak would finally show up, but he had to be good and drunk when it happened. Like it or not, there was no turning back now.
- // - // - // - // -
Jak’s walk to Frat Row was freezing cold, but also somehow soothing in the way that only the free evening before a vacation could be. He was tired and a little grouchy, but those feelings were nursed by the promise of Wednesday, and Thursday, and all the way to Sunday full of sleeping in, eating too much turkey, and goofing off with Daxter.
Apparently Jak wasn’t the only one eager to blow off some steam. This party, at first glance, looked just as wild as the Halloween bash had been. As the quarterback made his way up the front walk of the large house, the man who had been peeing from the upstairs balcony fell off of it and landed in a bush below. Jak winced, but the guy was already struggling out, pants around his knees, to the hoots and cheers of his companions still leaning over the railing.
Jak sighed and carried on. Sometimes he wondered how people managed to survive four whole years of this.
Inside was no better. A girl was getting sick in the entryway, her hair held by another girl who giggled and hiccupped by turns. The quarterback stepped quickly around them. It seemed like everyone was on a roll tonight.
He started searching the crowd. Jinx was sure to be out there somewhere serving up his concoctions. Phoenix was supposed to be there as well, though Jak had no idea if Razer was with him or not. And somewhere in the melee was Daxter. Jak hoped his roommate had managed to stay out of trouble without a chaperone.
Finally Jak caught sight of a raven-black ponytail. Phoenix was across the large common room, embroiled in a game of darts with some of their teammates.
“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” Jak asked, stepping up behind him.
“What? Oh, Jak!” Phoenix greeted him with a clap on the shoulder. “Glad you could make it. I was starting to wonder if you would. And not to worry, I’m perfectly sober.”
Both boys ducked a second later as an enthusiastically thrown dart went wild, pinged off a lamp, and disappeared into the crowd. Luckily no screams were forthcoming.
Jak quirked a brow. “Yeah, but they aren’t.”
“All part of the fun, mate.” Phoenix straightened up and flipped his hair back into order. “Are you looking for Daxter?”
“Yeah, have you seen him?” Jak tried not to sound too eager.
“He was in here just a minute ago. He and Jinx have been trading off taking the drinks ‘round.” The running back futilely scanned the sea of students. “Check the kitchen,” he finally suggested. “He might have gone back for a restock.”
“Thanks, Phoenix.” Jak turned toward the kitchen, shaking his head. He should have known that sooty excuse for a grad instructor would corrupt his friend one way or another. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard to pry Dax away from Jinx to have their little chat.
He was so lost in thought that the slam of another body against his own came as a total surprise. The green-blonde spun around, an apology on the tip of his tongue, only to find himself looking into a familiar and equally surprised face. “… Erol.”
“Jak.” The taller man’s expression shifted from surprised neutrality to subdued annoyance. “What a coincidence. I saw your little redheaded friend a while ago and wondered where you were, since I’ve never managed to see you two apart before. I thought you might have wised up since the last party.”
Jak bit back a snarl and a threat. Erol wouldn’t have had the chance to do anything to Daxter. There were too many people around. And the cadet didn’t seem to be acting overly aggressive that night, for a change. “I thought you might have decided to, I don’t know—stop going to these parties if you disapprove of underage drinking so much,” he growled instead, rolling his eyes.
Erol shrugged smoothly. “What can I say? One man alone can’t bring about good behavior on a campus full of idiots, so I’m letting it go. For now. You have to pick your battles wisely, right Jak?” His smile was anything but friendly.
Blue eyes narrowed. “That’s generally pretty good advice, yeah.”
On that note, they parted ways with a simple nod. Jak continued on to the kitchen, vaguely glad that the only person he’d truly managed to make an enemy of since coming to Haven U had decided to play it civil that night. Maybe Erol was just too preoccupied with something else to make any trouble. Or maybe he was legitimately trying to keep the peace between them. Whatever the reason, Jak was still unsettled. There was just something about Erol that he couldn’t bring himself to trust, even under an apparent olive branch.
As soon as he swung the kitchen door open, though, all thoughts fled his mind. All thoughts except the ones that were focused on the seat of his best friend’s pants.
Daxter was leaning against the cabinets, arms folded over the laminate. Jinx was on the other side of the counter, snapping the caps off two bottles for the couple that stood chatting next to him. Apparently Jak had walked in on the middle of a funny story.
“… so then I gave my little nephew some Mentos an’ a bottle of Diet Coke. Baby’s first chemical reaction is so sweet. I just didn’t figure he’d put the cap back on! Apparently now I owe my aunt a new bay window.”
Everyone laughed. Everyone but Jak, whose brain was still stuck alongside his eyes on those pants. Where did he even get skinny jeans? They have to be new. There is no way he’s worn those in front of me before. I would have remembered.
Jinx happened to glance up, finally noticing the quarterback’s presence. “Jakkie-boy! ‘Bout time you showed up. Come on in, grab a drink, take a load off.”
Daxter looked back over his shoulder and grinned hugely. “Hi, Jak! Where ya been, pal? I been waitin’ fer ya!”
Jak exchanged a distracted greeting with the couple as they walked by—he had a vague notion that the girl might have been in the chemistry lab Jinx instructed—and moved aside to let them through the door as they headed back to the party proper with their drinks. “Uh, hey, Dax. Sorry I’m late.”
“S’okay! C’mere, I saved ya a cranberry vodka mixer.” The redhead beckoned him closer expectantly.
The closer he got, the more Jak realized that he was going to be in serious trouble very soon if he didn’t manage to hoist his brain out of the gutter. Daxter wasn’t just wearing new pants. He was wearing a whole new outfit that complimented his slim build perfectly. The style was popular right now, but it was nothing that Jak would ever wear himself, so he’d never given it much attention. But on Daxter… The red in the shirt brought out the fire of his hair even more. The tight, dark-washed jeans clung to his legs and hips. Even the bratty wristband made Jak want to slide his fingers under it, feel the soft skin of the wrist beneath, the warm beat of a pulse against the pads of his fingers.
Jak accepted the proffered bottle and took a long drink. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“So how’s it goin’, Blondie?” Jinx asked. He was consolidating the remaining bottles on the counter top, making room for more tall stacks of plastic Solo cups. “Did you get all yer work done an’ projects ready like a good boy?”
“Yeah. I swear on my football scholarship, the most academic thing I’m going to do during this break is get online and look up how much the bookstores are buying back used textbooks for.”
Jinx laughed. “That’a boy. Teacher is proud.” He began to load a large tray with bottles. “Okay, boys, I’ll be back. Jak, I want a full report from you on how much you like my turkey vodka.”
“How about not.”
“Breakin’ my heart, here!” the blonde yelled. He pushed open the door and was gone.
Daxter glanced up at Jak. “The turkey stuff ain’t that bad, y’know,” he confided sagely. “Especially if yer already drunk.”
“Not if it was the last alcohol on Earth.” Jak smiled at his friend’s scoff. “Been having a good time?”
“Oh, yeah!” Dax began to chatter excitedly. The hint of a slur was becoming evident. “It’s been great! Jinx, he let me take turns carryin’ the drinks out. People really like ya when ya got the drinks. I even saw th’ scary guy—what was his name?”
“You mean Erol?”
“Yeah, him! An’ he wasn’t even a jerk ta me or nothin’! I should give people booze more often. Oh, an’ Phoenix said my clothes’re nice.”
Jak felt a flicker of annoyance, though for the life of him he couldn’t place why. That was weird. “They are nice. They’re new, right?”
“Yeah, I just got ‘em today!” Daxter preened, obviously enjoying the compliments. His cheeks and ears were pink, though probably more from drinking than self consciousness at that point. “Ya really think they’re cool?”
That was a bit of an understatement. The wardrobe change took the “cute” that the redhead’s normal hoodie and patched jeans supported and tipped it on its ear. Daxter always complained that people thought he looked young for his age, that he was a high schooler instead of a college student. His new look was definitely much more mature. Not that Dax wasn’t still cute, but there was something almost sinful in the cling of the new fabric. This redhead in front of Jak was… sexy.
Jak swallowed. “Yeah. I like them a lot.”
Daxter moved a little closer, tripping a bit over one of his own shoes. Those looked new, too. “Good. I was hopin’ you’d say that.” He grinned up at the quarterback from his new post, which arguably qualified as a breach of personal bubbles. “Damn, is it hot in here? Does it feel hot in here ta you?”
“Not really.” Jak looked again at the flushed face and ears. Dax had the first two buttons of his new shirt undone. The redness was migrating down his chest. “Uh, Dax. How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough.”
“Enough to have another god-awful hangover tomorrow? I thought you said you were never going to drink that much again after Halloween.”
He was ignored completely. “C’mon, let’s go outside fer a minute. It’s cooler out there.”
“It’s almost freezing out there,” Jak corrected, but there was already an insistent hand tugging on his sleeve, pulling him along as Daxter opened the door that led out onto the back patio.
The quarterback followed with a sigh. Dax would get cold in a couple of minutes and they could go back inside. In the meantime, he could get into the spirit of the upcoming holiday and be thankful that, unlike the first, their second visit to that particular patio had nothing to do with outrunning police officers.
Outside, the sun had completely set. Their breaths came out plumes of white in the frosty air, dissipating upwards into the dark sky where a waxing moon was on the rise. Muffled music from the sound system inside filtered out into what was otherwise a quiet night. Jak took a deep breath. Someone somewhere had a fire going; probably one of the neighboring houses had a woodstove or a fireplace. It would have been a great night for a bonfire.
Daxter walked by, pacing the length of the patio. There he stalled, quiet, with his back to the green-blonde.
Jak really hoped his friend hadn’t already managed to make himself sick. Not that Jak would really mind leaving the party early if that was the case, but he’d hate to see Dax do that to himself again. The redhead was supposed to be having fun, and he sincerely doubted being drunk to the point of nausea counted in the realm of things that were fun.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Huh?” Daxter half turned to face him, wobbling a bit. That didn’t speak volumes on the state of his sobriety. “Oh, sure. I’m fine, big guy. Nooo problems here!” He paced back, stopping just short of where Jak stood. “So, Jak.”
“Hm?”
“I’ve been thinkin’.”
“What have you been thinking about?” Jak asked, already anticipating an answer involving alcohol, or parties in general, or what they could do over the break, or even how cold it actually was out there. Anything but the answer that actually came.
Daxter drew himself up to his full height, looked Jak straight in the eye, and firmly declared, “We should fuck.”
Jak stopped breathing. He stared at the determined expression on the flushed face before him, struggling to process what he had just heard. “What?”
“You… you’ve been flirtin’ with me!” Daxter blurted, pointing at Jak accusingly.
Slowly, Jak’s ears drifted back up from their shocked slant. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.” He chanced an uncertain smile. “So you did notice. I was starting to wonder.”
“…really?” Daxter blinked, arm falling limply to his side. “Uh, I mean—yeah! You totally were flirtin’ with me! ‘Course I noticed! Yer only like the hottest guy I know.” He huffed, red cheeks poofing for a moment. “I been horny fer a goddamn week ‘cause of you! So we should fuck.”
Okay. So this was definitely not the way Jak had imagined this conversation going. But it was actually happening, and Daxter wasn’t freaking out on him, and damned if he was going to complain. Especially not when the object of his attentions had just admitted that Jak made him as hot as he unconsciously made Jak. The quarterback knew that the grin he was wearing had to be cocky as sin, but he couldn’t help it.
“Well,” Jak said slowly, turning the full force of that grin on his friend, “I think that can be arranged.”
The redhead searched his face suspiciously in the warm glow of the kitchen window. “Y’mean it? This ain’t some stupid joke?”
Jak shook his head in denial. “No, I mean it. You’re my best friend. Why would I joke about something like that?”
“Okay.” Daxter appeared mollified. “I didn’t guess ya would.” He stepped closer, firmly into Jak’s personal space, and smiled almost sweetly. “Glad we had this chat, pal. Now let’s do this thing.”
Jak choked out a startled laugh. “Are you serious? No!”
“Why not?” Dax asked, looking hurt at the outright refusal. “Y’just said ya been hittin’ on me!”
“Yes, I did. But now really is not the time. You’re too drunk for this.”
“Well, duh, ‘course I’m drunk.” Daxter rolled his eyes with a huge sigh, like it was the most obvious point ever. “Y’think I’d be brave enough ta call ya on bein’ a boner magnet if I wasn’t drinkin’?”
“You got drunk… on purpose… just to talk to me about this,” Jak said slowly, the pieces finally falling together. He wanted to laugh and bang his head against the wall at the same time. “God, Dax!”
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Daxter pouted for a fraction of a second, then brightened again. “So, yeah. Wanna mess around?” He took that last step forward, bringing them chest to chest. “I’ll give ya a hand job. Been plannin’ on it fer a week.”
The quarterback nearly swallowed his tongue. Suddenly at least one part of him was totally on board for this idea. But he still couldn’t forget where they were. “Dax, come on. That sounds—really great, but we can’t right now. Not here. There are too many people—”
“They’re not gonna come out here,” Dax wheedled. “They’re all inside havin’ fun.” His hands were suddenly on Jak’s arms as he pressed closer, the buttons of his new shirt brushing the front of Jak’s letter jacket. “Don’t you wanna have fun, pal?”
Jak wavered, his resolve beginning to dissolve in the face of a redhead who was, against all odds, being the forward party in all of this. He put tentative hands on Daxter’s waist, noting the chill clinging to the fabric of tight jeans even as he noted how deliciously slim those hips were. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until we’re somewhere else? It’s… it’s pretty cold out here…”
“Yeah, sure is. Guess you’ll just hafta warm me up.” Dax leaned forward, his arms worming inside Jak’s jacket as they wrapped around a muscled torso. “C’mon, aren’t ya the big, strong quarterback?” He grinned deviously. “Oooh, is the fake jock scared ta get sexy at the party?”
Oh, now it was freaking on. Jak tightened his grip on those tiny hips, eliciting a surprised yelp from the redhead as he picked the smaller boy up, turned around, and pressed him quickly against the side of the building.
“Hey!” Dax whined as the cold plastic siding made itself known through the thin fabric of his shirt. But the momentary displeasure didn’t stop him from pulling Jak as close as physically possible. One of the hands that had been worming inside Jak’s jacket withdrew and fell to the front of his pants instead.
Jak groaned at the experimental but eager touch against what was already becoming an obvious tent. He dropped his head forward, lips finding Daxter’s unerringly. Daxter went up on his toes, pressing back enthusiastically, but after a moment he pulled away. Jak tried again, only to have the second kiss rebuked with a quick turn of the head.
“What’s the matter?” he whispered.
“Nothin’.” Dax stared at the ground. “S’just… I dunno how ta kiss,” he muttered petulantly. “Never done it b’fore. Won’t be any good.”
Jak grinned. “Well, we can fix that.” He leaned in, but this time Daxter ducked his head, landing Jak’s kiss across the bridge of a freckled nose.
“Nuh-uh! No kissin’!”
For a moment Jak wanted to whine. Making out was one of the best parts! But he restrained himself. He wasn’t going to push his friend’s boundaries on their very first foray. “Okay. No kissing. We can work on that later.”
“… ‘kay.” Daxter’s reticence was almost cute. It was the first bit of embarrassment he had shown yet that evening, overcoming even his blood alcohol content.
Jak chuckled and moved his attention to a flushed ear. Despite its flush, he was sure it had to be chillier than it looked. It was his duty to warm that ear up. Smirking deviously, he peppered kisses along the freckled upper edge before moving lower to nibble on the lobe.
Daxter gasped sharply and arched into Jak, clearly happy with the proceedings this time around.
“Shh,” Jak whispered into the ear he was worrying.
It was probably an unnecessary reminder, since Dax was always so quiet anyway and even a few soft noises would be more than masked by the thumping of the bass inside, but they were still playing a risky game. In a house packed to the doors with people, there was no guarantee that no one would find a reason to come out back into the cold—to have a cigarette, to throw up, to take a piss if they were too drunk to find the bathroom. Even though Jak had tucked them close up beside the house, far removed from the light of the kitchen window and the street light off the corner of the patio, they could still get caught. The thought suddenly became much less worrying than it should have been when the hand at his crotch made a move to slip inside his pants.
Jak retaliated by sliding his hands off the hips he still held and firmly palming Daxter’s ass through those devious skinny jeans that seemed to have been designed with the sole purpose of driving him crazy.
Daxter whined desperately and squirmed against Jak, his face finding the open collar of the quarterback’s letter jacket to press frantic little kisses against the warm skin underneath. Jak shuddered, leaning into the hand that was suddenly determined to get his jeans unbuttoned.
The back door swung open.
Daxter froze like a spooked rabbit. Jak reflexively pressed closer, using his size to partially hide the smaller boy from view as a group of guys walked across the opposite side of the patio, laughing and talking loudly. They cut across the lawn, probably on their way to another house. Just when Jak thought they were in the clear and would go unnoticed in the shadows, the last one out the door happened to glance their way.
There was an immediate bark of laughter. “Oh my God, is that Mar actually hooking up with somebody? Who’s the chick who finally managed to pick up the quarterback?”
Jak cringed even as he shifted the arm he had braced on the wall, trying to conceal Daxter’s face. Of course somebody would be able to recognize one of the university’s star players, even in the bad light.
“Come on, guys,” he called irritably, trying to keep his voice steady even in the face of an eruption of whistles and jeers from the rest of the group, who had turned back to see what was afoot. If he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, maybe they would continue to think that nothing was. “A little privacy?”
“Yeah, sure thing. Good luck, man!”
Thankfully, mercifully, miraculously, the other men moved on. Jak was left with a pounding heart and an armful of redhead that was finally starting to shiver with nerves and cold.
He glanced down into wide eyes. “Well, that was close.”
Daxter gulped nervously. “Y’think they saw me?”
“Of course they saw you. They just thought you were a girl. So they didn’t see you very well.” Jak grinned crookedly. “And that’s what will be all over campus by tomorrow afternoon. The cheerleaders are going to put a hit out on me.”
Dax managed an unsteady snicker. “Yeah, well. Maybe you were kinda right about the whole ‘this ain’t the place fer this’ thing.” His shaking hands came up to take hold of Jak’s collar. “Wanna go home? Would that be a better place?”
“A much better place.” Jak stepped back, allowing Daxter to separate himself from the siding. “Where’s your jacket?”
“In’a kitchen someplace. I think.” The redhead was pondering the question when the door banged open once again.
Jinx stepped out onto the cold concrete. “There you guys are! I was lookin’ all over for ya.”
“Just getting some fresh air,” Jak offered amiably. He was suddenly grateful for their earlier fright, in a way; it had allowed his very obvious boner to dissipate. He had absolutely zero desire for Jinx of all people to guess that something was up. Not that he thought his instructor would spread the gossip around—he knew for a fact Jinx would privately tease him about it for the rest of the year and possibly beyond.
“Fresh air my ass. It’s freezin’ out here.” The blonde shot an unimpressed look at the sky before his gaze settled on Daxter. “You doin’ okay, Red? Yer lookin’ a little rough around the edges.”
Daxter smoothed ineffectually at his wrinkled shirt. His hair was mussed and his face was still pink. “M’okay.”
“You sure? You’ve been hittin’ it pretty hard tonight.”
“I’m fine, jeez! I just… feel a lil’ dizzy. Think I’m gonna go home with Jak.”
Jinx tsk’ed in sympathy. “Probably not a bad idea. Don’t worry about it, Red. Everybody deals with the same problem when they first start partyin’—the spirit is willing, but the stomach can only hold so much booze.”
Jak rolled his eyes heavenward. “And on that note of infinite wisdom, we’re leaving.” He held open the door for the other two as they headed back into the warmth and light of the kitchen.
Daxter found his jacket draped over a stool. They said their goodbyes to Jinx, then snuck back out the back door and made their way around the side of the house. There wasn’t a pressing need to give the party the slip this time, but at that point Jak almost thought it would be better this way. Let everyone think he had snuck off with some girl. At least he would have a believable excuse for ditching the party so early.
“Hey, Jak?” Daxter asked when they reached the sidewalk and began the trek back toward Praxis Hall. “Can we take the shuttle bus this time? I wasn’t lyin’ ‘bout feelin’ dizzy.”
“Yeah, sure. Come on, there’s a stop up here we can wait at.”
Jak let Daxter lean against him as they stood at the bus stop, leeching his warmth and steady support. The redhead was shivering harder. He would really have to get a proper winter coat soon, one way or another. Luckily they didn’t have long to wait.
When the shuttle arrived, they became the only two passengers. Jak tucked an arm around his friend’s shoulders in the low light and felt Daxter’s ribcage expand and deflate in a deep sigh. A head landed on his shoulder. Life was good.
The ride back to the dorm was short, only a few blocks. When they got back inside, the lobby was bustling with residents who were readying to head home for Thanksgiving break first thing in the morning, and some who were even leaving that night. Jak and Daxter had no trouble slipping in unnoticed, which at that moment was a godsend. A run in with Torn and his super alcohol detection powers would put a serious damper on… well, whatever it was they might eventually get up to that night.
Weirdly, though, just knowing that they were both on the same page now was an awesome feeling. Jak honestly didn’t care if they did anything else that night or not, as long as there was the understanding that, sooner or later, they would.
Daxter neatly plucked that thought from him the moment they set foot inside their room. They had barely stepped inside, Jak turning to close the door behind them, when Dax pressed against his back. Usually nimble hands fumbled once more for his zipper.
“Lose’a pants, fake jock. Still gotta give ya that blowjob.”
Jak’s breath hitched along with his pants. He tossed his jacket in the general direction of his desk chair. “I thought you said a hand job was part of your great plan.”
“It was. Just changed my mind, just now. Everybody likes blowjobs, right?”
“Well, yeah. But hand jobs are great, too. Don’t push yourself to do something if you don’t really want to do it.” A tiny warning tingled at the back of Jak’s mind. The redhead may have resorted to liquid courage to begin this encounter (and there was no way Jak would have let things go past the first pouncing if he hadn’t already been absolutely sure, prior to the alcohol, that Daxter really did have the hots for him) but the last thing he wanted was for his friend to wake up tomorrow and regret this. Maybe he should try to run damage control before—
Daxter shoved him toward the bunks. “Jus’ lay down, fake jock,” he grumbled stubbornly.
Jak hit his mattress with a groan. Apparently the matter was no longer up for discussion. His will to argue the point was also nonexistent at the moment, so he simply shut his brain up. Whatever Dax wanted, Dax would get, and far be it for Jak to try to deter him from something he was so set upon. He obligingly shuffled back until his shoulders were propped against the wall and his legs hung over the side of the bunk. He was already back to full hardness inside his boxers.
Daxter hit his knees on the rug between Jak’s legs. He gripped Jak’s spread knees as he looked down calculatingly at his fallen prey. Then his hands slid up strong thighs on an unerring path to the quarterback’s crotch.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Jak asked him, grinning up unsteadily as his pants were unceremoniously manhandled open.
“Not a damn clue. I’ll cope.”
Jak let out a deep, unsteady sigh as inexperienced hands fished him out of his pants and began to feel him for the first time. The touch was careful but far from tentative. Daxter’s fingers lingered over his cock like it was a toy he’d long desired. “Oh, I think you’ll figure it out just fine.” The redhead’s ego would probably inflate to the size of Saturn when Jak came in three minutes flat, but Jak didn’t really have a problem with that. The fact that he hadn’t been blown since the first week of August and now, nearly four months later, the dry spell was about to be broken might have had something to do with that.
“So, I just… put it in my mouth an’ suck, right?” Daxter looked bemusedly at the confusing object in his grasp, his thumb tracing around the head of it as he talked in a way that was making Jak’s eyes want to cross.
“Uh… well… here. Let me show you something.” The quarterback reached down and grabbed his friend’s hand, redirecting its hold from the head of his cock to the base. “Hold it like this. Like, half way down. Then you won’t be able to take too much at once. You won’t gag.” Gagging was definitely a thing Daxter didn’t need to be doing, not with all the liquor already in his system. There weren’t very many things Jak could think of that could ruin a blowjob, but puke in his lap might be one of them.
The redhead shifted his grip accordingly. “Ohhh, I get it. Pretty smooth, Jakkie-boy. Y’know a lot about this kind’a stuff.”
Before Jak could reply, there was a hot, wet tongue tracing his tip, and that was it. Talkie-time was officially over. He let out a deep, happy sigh as his upper body relaxed fully against the wall, his lower body missing the relaxation memo and tensing even further. Blowjobs. Gifts from the gods. Maybe he could return the favor and try to give Dax one. They were supposed to be experimenting, after all.
“Ah! Shit,” he hissed, hips rising to meet the mouth that was tongue lashing him like he was a melting ice cream cone in July.
“M’ I doin’ good?” Daxter asked breathlessly, leaving off momentarily to look up at Jak in concern.
“Fuck, yes, you’re doing amazing!” He reached down without thinking to cup one freckled cheek, just as warm lips slid over the top of him for the first time.
Rather than being offended by the touch, Daxter seemed perfectly cool with it. He leaned into the hand, humming almost happily as he swirled his tongue in random patterns over the head of Jak’s cock. The ring of his own strategically placed fingers worked like a charm, bumping his lips whenever he ventured too low. When he began to bob his head in something resembling a rhythm, Jak was caught between the cradle of a smooth, slick tongue and the redhead’s soft palate.
“Juuuust like that,” the quarterback murmured encouragingly, rocking his hips shallowly. His free hand descended unbidden to join the one already there, each one wrapping gently around the base of a long ear. His thumbs stroked the cartilage of the ears’ upper edges in time with the steady rise and fall of the mouth on him.
Daxter’s ears flicked backward slightly in acknowledgement, growing even redder and warmer at the attention. Eyes shut, face entirely relaxed, he whimpered quietly around the mouthful he was working.
The sound dripped pent up desire, and Jak shivered from the top of his spine to the tips of his toes. “Dax, hey, ease up.”
Daxter glanced up as best he could, obviously confused. “Hmm?”
The situation was growing more pressing. Jak tried to direct his friend off with the hold he had on his ears. “If you don’t want come in your mouth you better start using just your hand!”
The redhead’s ears flicked at the tugging and his eyes rolled sarcastically. His free hand pulled one of Jak’s away and pinned it to the bed. Chill, I totally got this, said every inch of his posture.
“Okay, fine, don’t say I didn’t try to—” Jak trailed off on a shuddering breath. His back arched involuntarily away from the wall as his hips rose into Daxter’s grip and mouth. He dug his fingers into the blankets as he came with a muffled curse, muscles locking in ecstasy. He felt Daxter’s hand tighten on his wrist, the redhead stilling in surprise. But he didn’t pull back.
Long seconds passed before the quarterback flopped back against the wall with a deep, satisfied sigh. That, had so been worth the wait. His stomach twisted in nervous excitement at the thought that now it was his turn to return the favor.
“That was awesome, Dax,” he purred, propping himself up to look down at his friend.
Daxter stared back with an unreadable expression. His ears were rigid; his lips twitched into a shape that was not a smile.
Jak’s eyes narrowed. “It’s still in your mouth, isn’t it.”
An unquestionably squeamish look passed over the redhead’s face. There was an ominous “hurk!” as his shoulders hunched.
“Oh my God, wait, I have Kleenex—!” Jak dove for the box of tissues on his desk at exactly the moment Daxter dove for the trashcan.
Luckily for their rug and Jak’s bunk, it wasn’t a far dive.
The quarterback slowly lowered the tissue box—he knew a lost cause when he heard it—and covered his eyes with one hand. Well, great. It didn’t get much more awkward than that. What the hell could he say?
As it turned out, he didn’t have to say anything.
The heaving and spitting from the trashcan subsided and was replaced by several seconds of silence. Then Daxter’s ears perked up a bit. “Sooooo. Just fer the record,” he said almost conversationally. “I threw up ‘cuz I was drinkin’. Not ‘cuz I blew you. There’s a difference.”
Jak snorted. He bit his lip hard. It was no good. In moments he was laughing uncontrollably. Weak kneed, he collapsed back on his bunk, tears of hilarity in his eyes. Only Dax could make an epic fail of that caliber come out funny. An unsteady giggle bubbled up to join his own as Daxter clumsily got to his feet and stumbled back to the bed.
“Are you okay?” Jak was finally able to ask. He reached out to steady Daxter as the redhead dropped heavily to the mattress, offering him a place to lean.
Dax groaned, accepting the supportive shoulder without question. “Yeeeah. I got a feelin’ I’m gonna hate myself in the mornin’ though.” He scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. “… I think I need ta brush my teeth.”
“And drink some water. You’re going to be dehydrated as hell.”
“Joy.” Daxter slumped sideways on the bed, a narrow fit with Jak already occupying it, and curled into a ball with a sigh. “M’sorry, Jak. I can’t do anything right. I was tryin’ ta be all smooth an’ cool, but I just screwed up even worse. Sorry I’m so lame.”
“Hey, come on. Don’t think of it like that.” Jak nudged him playfully. “I mean, really. It’s us. When is anything we do ever serious?”
“I guess. Least you got off before I… yeah.” He refused to make eye contact, cheeks red once more.
Jak’s grin mellowed affectionately to match the content warmth still coursing lazily through his body. “Yeah, I did. And tomorrow you’re getting off, too. Y’know. After the hellacious hangover you’re probably going to have goes away.”
Daxter squirmed around enough to look at him sidelong, eyes barely visible over the pillow. “So, y’really wanna… do somethin’ like that again? With me? Even though I’m the lamest loser ever ta lame?”
“Hell yes,” Jak said firmly. The thought that they could spend the next five days locked in their room with their hands down each other’s pants was immensely satisfying. “As long as you’re up for it too, I mean. Now come on. Let’s get you patched up. Bed will probably do you good.”
Daxter managed a small, crooked smile that did that funny tugging thing to Jak’s chest. “’Kay.”
It didn’t take them long to get everything squared away.
Out of the goodness of his heart, and also partially the fact that he had, after all, gotten a blowjob out of the ordeal, Jak volunteered to take the trashcan down to the garbage chute in the utility room. When he returned, Daxter’s new outfit had been abandoned in a pile reasonably close to the laundry hampers. The redhead was bundled in his favorite blue robe, beginning to droop the droop of booze-induced tiredness.
“Shower?” he asked muzzily in response to Jak’s stare.
Fantasies of licking trickling drops of soap-flavored water off a pale neck immediately flooded Jak’s mind, but he brutally beat them back. Dax was obviously not in any shape for more shenanigans that night. Nor did Jak want to push him into more than he was comfortable with too fast. He would bide his time.
Shower time, therefore, proceeded as it always had. Teeth were brushed, hair was toweled dry, and a short time later Daxter was woozily contemplating the ladder up to his bunk.
“Want to sleep down here?” Jak asked casually.
Daxter blinked at him.
“I’d say there’s plenty of room, but that’s kind of a lie, so I’ll just point out that we’ve managed it before.”
“… yeah, sure.”
The redhead collected his pillow. Jak scooted over to make room for him to sleep on the outside edge, just in case a second trip to the trashcan became warranted.
Daxter flipped off the light and crawled in. “You put up with me moochin’ yer bunk space an awful lot, y’know.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re so little I barely know you’re here.” Jak snickered as he was punched in the chest.
A little squirming and they found their comfort zone. Dax stretched out on his back, one arm flung over his eyes to sooth the vertigo tripped by becoming horizontal. Jak’s arm curled around his waist.
“Goodnight,” Jak yawned into his friend’s shoulder. His thumb lazily stroked Daxter’s hipbone through his shorts. He thoroughly enjoyed the shiver the action caused.
“G’night, fake jock. Sorry in advance if I throw up on ya.”
“Do not even joke like that.”
Dax hummed in slightly evil contentment. He wriggled just a bit closer, sighed deeply, and was still.
Jak lay awake for a long while after. His brain couldn’t seem to stop processing what had happened, and what was going to happen in the future, and how awesome it all was. All in all, it had been an extremely successful day. More than he could have ever hoped for. Maybe he should consider going to parties more often.
He buried his face in mussed red hair and smiled as something else finally occurred to him. I wonder what Keira’s going to say…?
- / - / - / - / -
To be continued.
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