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All That Glitters	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 7252 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the game this story is based on (Jak and Daxter). I make no money from writing this.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
AN: This chapter should go fast. To make it go faster, I’ll skip the boring author’s note.

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La wrenn: I’m very happy you like the outtakes. It’s kind of a serious subject, so I wanted to keep the mood pretty light in general and then add some funnies on top of it all. And I do agree, Jak is acting suspiciously out of character. Might he have a trick or two up his sleeve…? Oh, yes—I am planning a sequel to Talk to Me, sometime in the future. It’s still in the plotting stages right now, but it’s coming!

Tainted_Emerald: You always have such astute comments! I have considered allowing anonymous reviews, but never have due to the desire to reply to them all personally. Replying to more than one anon review seems like it might get a little confusing. But yet, I may consider it some more at a later date :)

Sione: Anything for you, my dear. I'm glad you liked it! Let's hurry on and see how Jak reacts to it all.

Kaybrianna: Thank you so much! Your encouragement and well wishes are very, very appreciated, I assure you. *hugs*

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Characters: Everybody belongs to Naughty Dog. I'm just using them for a while.

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     Promptly at sunset Jak was on his way up to his room. He had a plate in one hand, the result of a quick trip down to the kitchens. On it was a sandwich and a few slices of fruit. Daxter would like the fruit, Jak was sure. It was hard to come by in Spargus and not many got to enjoy it that didn't also enjoy titles of some sort. The redhead deserved a treat; he hadn't gotten any real dinner to speak of.
     Jak took the stairs two at a time, careful not to drop his offering, and cut through the quiet halls until he arrived in front of his own room. This was it. He reached for the door immediately... and then paused. There was a key hanging from the doorknob by a bright red ribbon. Puzzled, Jak tugged it off and looked it over in the dim light. It wasn't a key to the room—he had one of those tied to his belt, and anyway his room was never locked from the inside unless he himself was in there feeling unsociable.
     "Huh. Whatever."
     Stuffing the mystery key into his pocket, Jak carefully cracked open the door. For all he knew Daxter might have decided to take a nap while he waited, and it wouldn't do to disturb him quite yet. Slowly Jak peered inside, smiling a little despite himself at the thought of Dax peacefully curled up on his big bed, drowsing among the soft, fluffy pillows.
     An unidentified flying object very nearly took out his eye. Jak jerked his head back in the nick of time as something shiny and circular struck the frame of the door and fell to the stone floor with a loud metallic clatter. Far from being innocently napping, apparently the room's inmate was throwing stuff.
     "What the hell?! Dax, it's just me!"
     Crouched on the bed, the redhead paused for a split second before forcefully hurling something larger. This time Jak actually had to duck back out of the room and pull the door shut behind him. He stood in the hall, completely amazed, as whatever had been thrown stuck the other side of the heavy wood with an earsplitting clang. What in the world had got into his friend? He had seen that the intruder was only Jak, and tried to hit him anyway!
     There were a few moments of blessed silence. Very, very cautiously Jak peeked back inside. He had to determine if the suddenly volatile redhead had any more projectiles in hand before he could venture back in there.
     It appeared that Daxter didn't. Abandoning the offensive, the smaller boy had retreated to the very head of the bed and now looked to be trying to hide himself behind a fold of curtain hanging down from the canopy. He was only half succeeding.
     Jak sighed in relief. He nudged the door open wider and stepped back inside, glancing down to see what had been used for missiles. A decorative brass urn that had been on a small table next to the bed rolled to a stop near the toe of Jak's boot. Its matching lid was somewhat farther away. The vessel's contents, the childhood pebble collection that he had never bothered to throw back outdoors, were scattered all over the floor.
     "Jeez, Dax, were you trying to kill me?" Less than amused, the green-blonde kicked the urn out of the way and firmly shut the door. "I know I'm late, but it's really not my fault. Look, I even brought you a snack, see?"
     Daxter didn't seem any happier when Jak held out the plate. As he walked toward the bed the slave glared, ducking back behind the midnight blue velvet of the bed curtain. Obviously he was quite sore about something.
     Jak sighed. This would have to be fixed. He sat the plate of food on the bedside table and came closer. Coming up to the side of the bed, he reached out to tug the curtain away. "Dax? Come on, please don't be like that. I got up here as soon as I—"
     As soon as his hand touched the curtain Daxter shot out from behind it. He didn't get far, though. There was a rattle and thump, and an instant later the redhead was jerked to a stop with a pained gasp. Jak just stared. A sparkling golden line, no longer than the prince's own arm, secured Daxter's collar to the bars of the headboard.
     "They chained you up."
     Jak couldn't believe it. Someone had taken it upon themselves to put a chain on his friend. Not Sig—he was much too kindhearted for such a method. One of the servants, then. Whoever had done it, they had probably thought they were so smart, making sure he couldn't get away like this. Well, Jak would see how smart they felt when he got his hands around their neck! If Daxter had panicked and tried too hard to get free he might have actually managed to strangle himself.
     Without thinking Jak grabbed the chain. It was decently thick, but gold was softer than most metal. He could bust it off easy enough. Before he could try, however, Dax was lunging forward and taking a swing at him. The restraint kept him far enough away that the blow never hit home, but Jak was stunned nevertheless.
     "Daxter, stop! I never meant for this to happen! Hold still, I'll fix it." He reached out again. The redhead would have none of it.
     Dax pulled away this time, as far from Jak as the chain would allow. There he sat among the pillows, knees drawn up tight to his chest and arms locked around his legs, giving Jak the most hurt and betrayed look imaginable. His body language was crystal clear. Don't. Touch. Me.
     Jak forced himself to be still and stay unthreateningly at the edge of the bed. This was all wrong. What had his little friend so worked up that he wouldn't even allow Jak to touch him to take off that gods-awful chain? It was almost like Dax thought Jak was going to hurt him, or something.
     Wait.
     Maybe he really thought that...?
     "Dax?"
     The redhead looked pointedly in the other direction, ears laid back to their extreme. His intentions of giving the prince the continual cold shoulder were obvious.
     "Hey, come on and look at me. Please, Daxter?"
     It took some cajoling, but blue eyes finally flickered back Jak's way. It was more of a fearful glare than anything, but Jak was still hopeful. “Dax. Did you think I was really going to... do what my dad told me to do to you? Without even asking you?”
     Daxter cocked his head, obviously surprised at the question but still clearly distrustful. He kept his gaze warily on Jak, not dropping his defensive posture, and nodded once, very curtly. Abruptly the green-blonde honestly felt a little sick. His friend genuinely thought he meant to rape him.
     Well, can I really blame him? Jak thought bitterly. I had to agree to it downstairs to keep Dad satisfied. Of course Dax can't have known I was just bluffing, that I was going to make sure he was okay with it first. Then they drag him up here, chain him up, leave him alone in my bed… what else is he going to assume?
     In truth, the redhead did look perfectly ready to be ravished. He had been given a wash and brush, Jak could tell, and the clothes Dax had no doubt been shoved into by force looked like something from Jak's own princely wardrobe—bright, ruby red silk and soft, cream colored cotton with gold accents that matched the subtle streaks in his fiery hair. Added to the picture, his ever-present collar and the matching gold chain keeping him anchored to the bed made what was supposed to be going on that night between master and slave all the more obvious.
     Jak swallowed unconsciously. Dax did look awfully good when he was all prettied up, for a skinny freckled boy with a little bit of an overbite. And he was all Jak's.
     Suddenly the enormity of the situation hit home. The redhead was completely helpless. At his mercy. He was so much smaller, and restrained at that—Jak could probably pin him to the mattress with a minimum of effort. And he was a slave. No better than property. Jak could do whatever the hell he wanted to the other boy and in the eyes of everyone else there would be nothing wrong with it. It would be his right.
     But... it wouldn't be right to Jak.
     Daxter was still watching him closely as he sat there on the edge of the bed, no doubt wondering what the hell his suddenly silent, motionless jailer was up to. His head cocked quizzically to the side as the young slave studied Jak, ears perking the slightest bit in his curiosity.
     Slave. It was only a title. Daxter was a person, not a thing. A living, breathing, thinking, reasoning, feeling human being. That he didn’t happen to be in the power position here was mere coincidence, in the grand scheme of things. Hell, Dax could even be royalty himself for all the green-blonde knew—Jak never had managed to coax the story of the other boy’s origins out of Samos, and Dax sure couldn’t tell him anything.
     Most importantly of all, Daxter was his friend. Unlike most everyone else the little redhead didn’t see an authority figure when he looked at Jak, someone to be feared and respected. He saw someone who had been kind to him in an unknown and mostly unfriendly place. Someone who would protect him, not harm him. At least… he had seen it that way until now.
     “Daxter, listen.” Jak finally spoke up, breaking the tense silence. He spoke quietly, soothingly, and somehow it was as easy for him as it was strange when he addressed the reassuring words to his still-frightened companion. “I swear to the Precursors, I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t even touch you if you don’t want me to. Now, I’m going to take that chain off. You gonna be still and not hit me?”
     There was no response to the query, so Jak logically assumed he had the go-ahead. Apparently it was the wrong assumption to make. He leaned forward and reached out for the other, glancing down as he did so to fish the suddenly remembered key out of his pocket. Now that he thought about it, surely it fit the lock that connected the chain to Daxter’s collar. However, taking his eyes off the redhead turned out to be a bad choice.
     As Jak’s hand came nearer Daxter tensed, shrinking away as much as he was able. When his back finally fetched up against the headboard of the bed, leaving him with nowhere else to go and unwelcome touch creeping ever nearer, he did arguably the only thing one could do under the circumstances. He bit.
     Jak bellowed in shock and pain, jerking back so suddenly that he dropped the key. Daxter dove to the side with a sharp snap of chain links, wide eyed at the surprising volume of Jak’s reaction. Clearly he hadn’t expected his self-defense to be quite so effective.
     “That hurt, you little ass!”
     Jak dove. Here he was being all nice and understanding, going against everything he had ever been taught about the privileges of royalty and simply taking what he wanted, and this was the thanks he got? Why that ungrateful little—!
     Even as he went down, Daxter put up a good fight. A hard kick connected with Jak’s ribs and a fist barely missed his face when he threw the struggling redhead to the mattress. Fingernails raked down his bare arm and grazed a long ear before he was able to wrap his hands around both flailing, stick-thin wrists and trap them firmly against the bed above Daxter’s head. From there it was a simple matter of pinning the thrashing slave with his body weight; not a significantly difficult maneuver.
     “Knock it off, Daxter!” he snarled as the other continued to squirm as much as he was able under Jak’s much heavier body.
     Their faces were inches apart. Jak could literally hear the redhead gulp, feel the shift as he abruptly tried to lean back further into the covers. From the suddenly very nervous look on the redhead’s face, Jak was pretty sure he had never seen the prince truly mad before. It was a rather intimidating sight.
     Jak fought back a triumphant smirk. Dax was damn lucky he did have a working conscience. The temptation to take what he wanted flared suddenly, bright at the thrill of victory and the dull pain in his bitten hand, sore ribs and numerous stinging scratches. And he did want. Daxter’s body pressed tight under his. Their panted breaths, deep after the frantic tussle, mingled. This was the perfect opportunity to assert his dominance, if he were so inclined.
     Daxter knew it. He was all out of cards to play. After long moments blue eyes looked down and away from Jak’s own, defeated, then closed, resigned. The barest of quiet whimpers escaped the redhead and, with a last deep breath, he went still.
     The predator in Jak cooled immediately when he felt the fight go out of his opponent. He did not relax his grip on the wrists he held, though, merely shifting his hold to keep them trapped in one hand instead of two. Letting your guard down in any situation was foolish, as strong teeth on his skin had rudely reminded him just minutes before. Keeping the trembling, cringing redhead spread beneath him, Jak lowered his free hand and—grabbed for the key almost lost among the rumpled bedclothes.
     “I said that I am not. Going. To hurt. You. And I would really, really appreciate it if you would return the favor and not hurt me. Alright?”
     Daxter’s eyes popped open once more at the almost conversational tone. He stared up at Jak, amazed, as the prince proceeded not to grope at him, but to bring the key back into his line of sight.
     “That’s right. You see this? I wasn’t lying when I said I’d take that chain off. And I wasn’t lying downstairs when I said no one would hurt you. That includes me. Nobody’s getting forced tonight, so just calm down.”
     After a few moments of silent contemplation, the redhead finally relaxed minutely. He turned his head meekly when Jak nudged at his chin, allowing the prince access to the locked latch at the back of his neck. His breathing began to even out as the chain fell away with a quiet snap and clank, leaving him caught only by his position underneath Jak’s larger bulk.
     Jak couldn’t resist petting his hand once through that vibrant, though mussed, red hair as Daxter’s pounding heart began to slow right beneath his own. Poor kid really must have been scared to death. Now that he’d had a chance to cool down himself from that little rush of pain-induced anger, Jak could actually feel proud of his little buddy. Standing up for himself like that. A fighting spirit like that would impress any Spargian.
     “Okay, I’m letting you up now. No hitting, kicking, biting, scratching, or throwing. Got it?”
     Daxter nodded quickly, eyes big and hopeful. Very carefully Jak sat up, taking his weight off in small increments just to make sure nothing funny would be tried. Nothing was. At last he let go of the smaller boy’s wrists and sat back, giving Dax space.
     The slave popped upright immediately but didn’t make any attempt to run. He simply sat where he was, surrounded by scattered pillows, rubbing absently at his wrists and staring at Jak. Jak stayed near the foot of the bed, staring right back. This moment would make or break their friendship, he knew. The evening hadn’t turned out anything like he had planned; now all he could do was hope things weren’t totally ruined between himself and the redhead.
     “Don’t forget about your snack,” Jak said quietly after a long while, and gestured to the little table and the plate he had unthinkingly dropped on it. “It’s good. Bet you’re still hungry, huh?”
     That seemed to do the trick. After another long pause Daxter carefully rose to his hands and knees and crawled the small distance to the side of the bed. Ignoring the sandwich he went straight for the fruit—Jak had somehow known he would. He nibbled at it, still keeping one wary eye on the prince but overall seeming much calmer. It appeared that Jak’s peace offering had been accepted.
     The green-blonde smiled as he watched half the apple slices disappear in quick succession. “Good?”
     A flippant shrug was all the response he got. Jak had to chuckle. The redhead’s composure had been utterly destroyed, his pride miffed to the extreme. Of course he wasn’t going to be handing out full forgiveness, let alone compliments on Jak’s choice of snack foods. Satisfied that at least his friend wasn’t too distressed to eat, he felt alright turning a bit of his focus to other things.
     Momentarily taking his attention off of his companion, the prince gingerly flexed his injured hand. Hopefully that wouldn’t affect his performance in the upcoming battle that much…
     A soft sound of inquiry made Jak glance up once more. He was startled to find Daxter perched much closer to him now, barely an arm’s length away. The little brat could move so soft and quiet sometimes that it was unfair. Despite his surprise at the stealthy move, though, Jak couldn’t help but smile in relief. If he had gotten that near, close enough to be easily grabbed if worse came to worse, then that must mean that Daxter was willing to trust him again—if even a little.
     The redhead was looking pointedly at his hand.
     “Forget about it. It doesn’t hurt that bad. Besides, I think we’re even. I scared you, you bit me. We’re all squared up now.”
      Hanging his feet off the edge of the mattress, Daxter scooted even closer while obviously trying to look unconcerned about it. Maybe he was craving reassurance of a different type…? Jak didn’t dare presume to hope. Instead he kept playing it cool, examining his own hand further.
     “You know, you’re tougher than you look. My sword hand might be out of commission for a while thanks to you. Way to go, little guy.”
     Daxter’s puff of pride was visible. He smirked, and his ears flicked with smug satisfaction. It was cute as hell.
     “Hey, don’t look so happy with yourself. I still don’t think I deserved this. I come up here with a nice treat for you, all set to be really, really nice—I was planning to seduce you, not violate you, you know.”
     A snort of dismissal.
     Jak grinned. “It’s true. I was going to do it all the right way, before a certain someone went berserk on me. Sweet words, lots of kisses, cute little you back in my lap… Hey, no pushing!”
     All Jak could take away from the hard shove at his upper arm was the fact that even though he might have been trying not to, Daxter was grinning back. Oh, was that ever a welcome sight. And they were almost shoulder to shoulder now, Dax sitting right beside Jak as if nothing had ever happened to make him doubt his safety there. Very, very cautiously, the green-blonde raised a careful arm and placed it lightly around the smaller boy’s thin shoulders. Daxter did not shrug it away.
     Oh Precursors, thank you.
     Gently Jak tightened the arm in a reassuring squeeze, then let the contact fall. He didn’t want to push his luck. Winning himself back into the other’s good graces was top priority now. Daxter, however, seemed disinclined to let it be at that. The redhead leaned in closer as Jak tried to draw back, letting out a quiet sigh as his head rested against the prince’s shoulder. Jak raised a brow in wonder. Maybe his friend needed a bit more reassurance after all.
     With the smallest nudge of encouragement Daxter turned and leaned against Jak fully. Jak, in turn, put his arm back where it so obviously belonged, taking care all the same to make sure that Dax didn’t feel trapped in any way. He could pull back whenever he wanted to.
     Jak petted his friend’s hair, shoulders, upper back, all as unthreateningly as he could. This was something they were both used to, from way back when Daxter had first been brought into the palace. The young prince had been the only one he would even let near him then, let alone comfort him physically like this. At the time Jak had found it to be how he imagined consoling a younger brother might feel. Now, however…
     “You really do look great like that, Dax.” It was small talk, idle chatter to keep the redhead calm and relaxed. As much as Daxter tried to hide it, Jak knew he loved being paid compliments. “Those clothes are perfect for you.” He had always wanted to supply his friend with some better garments, but had been afraid of the other slaves and servants growing jealous and taking out any anger at the apparent favoritism on Daxter. “Did you get a chance to look in the mirror?”
     Daxter shook his head slightly but didn’t seem too overly concerned by the fact. Maybe at this point he didn’t really care too much how he looked, as long as violent trespasses on his person weren’t on the agenda for the evening. Jak continued patting and petting soothingly, running his fingers through Dax’s hair. Wait a second… something was missing.
     “Where are your goggles?”
     At the question the redhead sat bolt upright, a look of utter annoyance and anger on his face. He began to mime frantically, intent on showing Jak just what had happened—being pushed and shoved, someone knocking off his goggles and taking them away, pulling off his clothes and dousing him with water. By the end of the energetic display Jak had no further questions as to why Dax had been intent on throwing something at the next person who violated his personal space.
     “Wow.” Again the green-blonde felt that twinge of guilt. “I really am sorry about all that, Dax. It won’t happen again. We’ll find your goggles, too.” He brushed lightly at his friend’s slightly flushed cheek. “Hey, I didn’t accidentally knock you in the face a minute ago, did I? It’s really red right here.”
     With a shrug, Daxter rolled his eyes and acted out a hand slapping his face. Obviously it hadn’t been Jak at all.
     “Oh, really.” The prince’s eyes narrowed. “Do you remember who it was that hit you?” A nod. “Could you point the dirty bastard out to me later?” Another nod, this time accompanied by a small grin. Dax knew when he was being stood up for.
     Jak sighed as his shoulder was happily nuzzled by that same red cheek, a clear show of thanks. This night just kept getting better and better. He needed a warm bath. After another few minutes of silent thought, he spoke up. “Alright, Dax. You can stay here and finish eating, okay? I’m going to go wash up.”
     Looking to put a little more distance between them, Jak got to his feet. He tried to ignore the confused expression on the redhead’s freckled face. Damn it. He had finally convinced Daxter that he wasn’t going to touch him inappropriately that night and managed to keep himself from fantasizing about that very thing. Well, mostly kept himself from fantasizing. And now here the little brat was cozying up to Jak in gratitude and making his hands want to wander.
     Dax watched him as he moved to the large chest against one wall to collect some cleaner, softer, looser articles of clothing of the type suitable to be worn to bed. Just sat, and watched. Nothing more.
     Jak took one last look at the redhead as he crossed to the adjoining bathroom. Before he pulled the door closed behind him, he saw Daxter unconcernedly dig back into his plate of snacks. Smiling faintly, the prince turned away.

- / - / - / - / -

     Daxter wasted no time working his way through the food. He ate the sandwich first, which was very good, and quickly moved to the remainder of the fruit, which was even better. He hadn’t had fruit since before—well, he wouldn’t go there.
     When he was done it was logically time to explore the princely suite. Jak had left him alone and unsupervised, so obviously that meant that he had the okay to poke around. There wasn’t really much to see, as the redhead soon discovered.
     The room was sparse, as most rooms of the palace were. Damas was not big on frills, even in their living quarters. The drawers and chests held mostly clothing. The walls were mostly decorated with weapons. A small and obviously much loved stuffed animal tucked away in one trunk did give Daxter pause. He petted its vaguely dog-shaped form, amused, before moving on. What else could he do? He had never been in this area before and the urge to slink and explore was always present. However…
     Jak had neglected to lock him in. The door to the outer hall was shut, but that was all. He could slip out at any point and be halfway across the palace before Jak even had a chance to get out of the bath and discover he was gone.
     The slave glanced from the bathroom door to the bedroom door and back again. Caught almost perfectly in the middle he weighed his options, shuffled a bit, and took the first step toward a big decision.

- / - / - / - / -

     Jak took his time running the bath water. He brushed his hair to remove any stray bits of sand, and even threw a handful of dried desert flowers into the deep stone tub for the sweet, calming fragrance they would lend to the water. Aromatherapy at its best. He could do with a little calming down at the moment.
     He felt protective. Possessive. Still horny as hell. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it at this point. If he made another move on the redhead he would be effectively dropping a guillotine on their friendship; it was pretty clear by now that Daxter wanted nothing to do with him after all, at least on the romantic or sexual fronts. Now not only would he not get any flirting, etcetera in with the redhead that night, he probably wouldn’t even get to spend time of any kind with him.
     Dax is smart enough to realize that I didn’t lock the door, he thought gloomily as he stripped. He’s probably already finished his food and snuck out by now.
     Then there was also Damas’ threat to keep them apart from tomorrow morning onward that he had to worry about.
     Great. Now I’ve got *two* big problems. I’ll have to try and find Dax tomorrow morning before Dad does… but how will I do that when Dad will be looking for me, too, to tackle this stupid invasion issue? Damn it. Life should not be this complicated.
     Lost in thought, sunk up to the armpits in warm, sudsy water, Jak didn’t notice as the doorknob silently began to turn. He did notice the squeak of the heavy wood as it slowly eased open, though. Hardly daring to presume, the prince glanced up.
     A freckled face topped with a shock of red and orange peeked in. One bright blue eye regarded him inquisitively.
     Slowly, a big smile stretched across Jak’s face. “Hey, Dax.”

- // - // - // - // -

To be continued…

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(2^nd)AN: So it seems that Jak has made his decision between one night of dubiously-consensual sex and a lifetime of Daxter’s friendship. But what happens now?

Outtakes happen now, that’s what!

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Jak: Dax, quit it! Stop throwing— (is smoked by the urn)—oww…

*thud*

Daxter: … //Damn it, now who’s gonna let me loose?! Didn’t think that one through very well.//

- - - - -

Jak: (has Dax pinned to the bed) Um. Do I really have to make the right choice here?

Daxter: ((glare)) //YES.//

Jak: You sure? Because rape scenes can be hot, too, you know.

Daxter: ((glares some more)) //Don’t even think about it.//

Jak: Oh, come on! It happens like that all the time! I’ll use you, and then magically once you feel how amazing it is to be claimed you’ll be okay with this, and be sweet and loyal and ready to serve me and—

Daxter: //Screw. You.//

Jak: ((pouts)) You’re no fun.

- - - - -

Daxter: (rummaging in Jak’s drawers) //What’s this? A stuffed animal from Jak’s younger days? Aww, he does have a soft side! ((pause)) I should hide it and make him cry.//

- - - - -

Daxter: (peeks into the bathroom) //I guess I should forgive Jak and spend some quality time with him. We’re best pals, after all!//

Jak: ((grin)) Hey, Dax. Wanna play with my rubber ducky?

Daxter: ….. //You are a sick, sick man.// (slams door)

Jak: (holds up duck confusedly) Was it something I said?

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All That Glitters