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Pet	By : sillyneko345 Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 5457 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 1
- 2
- 3
AN: I am working on Keep Talking. I am. It’s just got longer chapters than this fic.
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Amaronith: Yes, Jak is indeed a hot-ass. And Dax will be thankful for that hot ass, before too long.
TheAnonThatGotAway: But my void is nice and comfy. I don’t wish to rise from it. I think I’ll stay right here and write.
Gloomie: You want to write a Jak fic. You waaant to. You also want to build me a shrine, with no raining fire.
Ezeku: I’m glad the “pet” angle is working for you! Thanks for giving it a read.
Kuromei: Oh, the suspense! I’m glad you’re looking forward to more!
Grimreaperchibi: I think Torn’s been drinking too much, between me and you. That, or he just wants to tick off an ottsel…
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Jak had dressed incognito for the mission, which largely meant that he had pulled his hair back and left his armor stashed at the Underground base. His red scarf wrapped around his waist like a belt. No weapons were visible, and the one small gun hidden in the waist of his pants was covered by his small hip pack. With his newly christened pet’s leash in hand, he looked about as civilian as he was going to get.
It might have been a more convincing act for Daxter to actually walk on the leash, but Jak wouldn’t hear of it. There was mud on the ground, and broken glass, and who knew what else. Since he would attract more notice walking upright he would also have to go on all fours, something that the ottsel did not enjoy. Jak wouldn’t degrade him like that. For the moment, Dax draped across his shoulders, the leash hanging down to wrap gently around Jak’s wrist.
“Too bad swiping a zoomer would be too conspicuous, huh?” Jak said quietly, trying not to look like he was walking down the street talking to an animal on his shoulder.
Daxter made a small, noncommittal noise of what might have been agreement. His ears twitched listlessly. Their walks were usually full of witty banter from him and appropriate responses from Jak, and at the moment he was obviously bored as hell with playing a silent role.
Jak frowned, reaching up to scratch gently behind his friend’s ear. He felt bad for Dax, he really did. The poor guy had always been looked down upon, figuratively, and it had become literal since his ottselization. Being stuck in Haven City where a total of three people knew that he was really a human stuck in a furry body just made it worse. Now here he was, forced to pretend that the furry exterior everyone saw was really all there was to him.
Daxter heaved a sigh against the green-blonde’s neck that said more than even words could. This sucked.
Jak was at a loss—until they rounded a corner and came into the commercial district. Food carts and market stands lined the streets at that time of afternoon, paving the way toward the small café on Torn’s map. Jak’s eyes lit up when he saw the fruit and vegetable stand. What Dax needed was a special treat.
The ottsel perked as they cut through the crowd and came to a stop next to the stand. Jak reached unerringly for a big cluster of blue and purple berries. Expensive and hard to come by, but Daxter’s favorite. “I’ll take these, please. Don’t need a bag.”
“Of course.” The woman running the stand glanced up as she accepted his credits. She smiled when she saw Daxter shifting eagerly on Jak’s shoulder, all but drooling at the berries. “Something tells me these are going to disappear pretty fast.”
Jak chuckled. “Oh, yeah.”
“He’s a lucky little guy to get such a nice snack. Enjoy.”
“Thanks.” Jak nodded to her before moving on to find a place to sit. A row of benches caught his eye and he quickly selected one. “Here, Dax. Maybe these will cheer you up.”
Daxter scrambled down from his perch to sit beside Jak on the wooden bench. He sat back on his heels with his tail curled around his rear paws and his hands down flat on the boards, like a normal animal would. He opened his mouth wide, staring up at Jak expectantly.
Jak laughed at the unexpected demand. He hadn’t expected Dax to take the pet thing quite so far, but at least Torn couldn’t accuse them of not trying. “So I’m supposed to put them in your mouth for you too, huh?”
There was a trill of impatience and an unmistakably annoyed frown.
“Okay, okay, I’ll feed you.”
Jak tugged a plump berry from the bunch and held it to the fine yellow fuzz on Daxter’s lower lip. Sharp teeth immediately closed around it, slipping against the pad of Jak’s fingers, but the green-blonde had no fear of being bitten. The berry quickly disappeared, crunched twice with great relish and happily swallowed. What happened next surprised Jak, though. A little pink tongue swiped out to lap up the dark berry juice, rough as it rasped against skin not covered by fingerless gloves. Slowly an equally pink flush began to spread across Jak’s cheeks.
He hadn’t felt that tongue on him in months. Not since…
Being in heat had done strange things to his favorite ottsel. Hearing Daxter beg had done strange things to Jak. And now, even though Dax was fixated on the sweet tang of berry juice and nothing more, his tongue on Jak’s skin felt just as good as it had two months ago when he’d had something much different on his mind.
Daxter butted Jak’s hand with his head and whined. More! Now!
Swallowing hard, Jak gave him another berry. Then he snuck and popped a couple into his own mouth. Hey, he had paid for them, after all. The process was repeated—pluck, bite, lick, pluck—until the entire cluster was gone.
“Good?” Jak asked.
The ottsel burped contentedly and licked the fur around his mouth.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Nearly purring, Daxter deposited himself in Jak’s lap. He stretched, lay down, and rolled over, belly up.
Jak smiled, tickling the bright yellow fur over that full belly. Dax was just too cute sometimes. Now was one of those times. The bright blue eyes, the button nose, the happy purrs, the collar and lea—
The green-blonde picked Daxter up under the arms and stood abruptly, holding his surprised friend to his chest. It was obviously time to get back on task, if his brain had the free space to start thinking dirty thoughts about his best friend on a leash. However, he couldn’t deny that he’d had plenty of time to think the situation through since Dax’s heat. Rut. Whatever. Would he do it all again? Sure. If Daxter wanted to, that is.
Boosting the ottsel onto his shoulder, Jak strode resolutely down the sidewalk in the direction of the café.
- // - // - // - // -
Daxter was less than pleased when he realized that animals were not allowed inside the café. They stood staring at the “No Pets” sign in the window for a full minute before he slumped on Jak’s shoulder and sighed in defeat.
“Sorry, little guy,” Jak said quietly as he took Dax down off his shoulder and set him on the cracked concrete of the sidewalk.
Dax gave his best whine and sad-ottsel-in-the-snow face. What were they supposed to do if he couldn’t go in?
The answer became clear when a gentle tug on the collar made him walk confusedly, on all fours, over to a street lamp outside the front door of the little shop. By the time he realized what Jak was up to and let out a loud squeak of disbelief, the green-blond had already tied the leash to the post and moved away.
“Stay,” Jak said, holding his hand up, palm out.
Stay? Stay! That was a crocadog command! Why, that dirty bastard! Dax glared as Jak hurried inside. Oh, sure, Jak looked like he felt guilty for it, but stay? He had a lot of nerve saying that and leaving his best bud out here practically in the gutter—
“Daddy, looky! It’s a pretty aminal!”
“Hn?” Daxter jolted back to awareness of his surroundings when a small, sticky hand landed on his back and began to pet. He looked up and found himself nose to nose with a little girl and her ice cream cone.
“Can I haaave him?” she asked beseechingly, looking back over her shoulder at her father.
“No, sweetheart.” The man smiled, shifting the shopping bags he was carrying. “You already have a bunnchilla, so I don’t think we need a… well, actually, I’m not quite sure what kind of animal that is. But it looks like he’s got an owner anyway.”
“Awwww…” The girl leaned down to pet Daxter again.
The ottsel had to hide a smile. She was a cute kid, really. Maybe four or five years old. She had pink bows in her pigtails, with a pink ice cream to match. There were already sticky splotches on her little yellow jumper.
“Come on, honey,” the father said, turning back down the walk. “Let’s get these groceries home to Mommy.”
“Okaaay. Bye-bye, pretty.”
Daxter was all set to nuzzle her hand for brightening his mood. Was. Then she turned too fast, tripped over her untied shoelace, and dropped her ice cream cone right on his head. He let out a loud, indignant animal shriek as half-frozen strawberry ooze splattered across his face and down the back of his neck, soaking his ears with sticky goo. What the hell?!
“Oops.” The little girl covered her mouth with both hands as Daxter dripped and sputtered. Then she turned and ran down the sidewalk after the retreating figure of her father, who seemed to have missed the whole scene.
Daxter muttered and hissed to himself as he twisted up and tried to lick off the goop that he could reach. Kids. Whoever said they were precious little bundles of sugar and rainbows and angelic joy needed their asses kicked. Oh, and who else needed their ass kicked? Jak, for leaving him out here tied to a damn lamp post. And Torn, for making him dress up and act dumb for no reason whatsoever. Like a little bitty change in wardrobe and making Dax be quiet was really going to stop the Krimzon Guard from recognizing the face of the guy they had plastered all over wanted posters from one side of the city to the other!
“Whoa, dude, check that thing out. What is it?”
Oh, fan-friggin’-tastic. Daxter glared up at the newest challenge: two teenage boys, who couldn’t be any older than him and Jak. His ears listed back and he growled a little in his throat. Watch it, guys. I’m not in the mood ta take anymore crap today.
“I dunno, man.” One of the boys crouched down to inspect Daxter, staring at him curiously. “I never saw one’a these before. Y’think it’s an exotic, or somethin’?”
“Not sure. Whatever it is, it sure enjoys ice cream!”
Daxter hissed, baring his teeth and laying back his ears as his hackles rose. Yeah, sure. Laugh it up, jackass.
“No man, really. I bet it’s one’a them exotic pets. People pay big bucks fer weird animals. Makes ‘em feel important, walkin’ a swanky new pet around town.”
“Big bucks, huh?” Now the older boy was starting to sound interested. He too leaned down for a better look at the ottsel.
Nervously, Daxter scuttled backwards until his haunches hit the lamp post. Something about these guys wasn’t sitting right with him. It couldn’t be the scruffy way they were dressed—he’d grown up scruffy enough to beat them both, so there was no prejudice there. Maybe it was something in their eyes. Or the way the older one’s hand was sneaking out, moving toward the knot of the leash around the post…
“How much y’think we could get for this thing downtown?”
The second teen’s eyes widened and he elbowed his friend in the ribs with an urgent murmur. “You crazy? Knock that off! This thing’s owner’s gotta be close or they wouldn’t a’left it tied up like that!”
“And that’s why we’ll be quick.”
Daxter felt a jerk at the leash as the knot was tugged viciously, and abruptly his thought processes did a one-eighty. Mission directive? Out the damn window! He shot to his feet, back to the post, and reached behind himself to get his arms around it, too. He wasn’t going anywhere if he could help it! “Hey, hey, fellas! Can’t we talk this over?!”
Both teens froze, mouths falling open.
“Holy shit, it talks! We’re gonna make a fortune off this thing!” The one in charge reached down and grabbed Daxter by the scruff of his neck, right behind the collar, as the leash unknotted and fell free in a coil on the sidewalk.
Daxter twisted up like a snake. He angled his neck up as best he could and sank his teeth into the tender flesh on the underside of the would-be ottsel-napper’s arm. He was going nowhere without a fight.
Several sounds assaulted his ears at once. The boy holding him cried out in pain. The one who’d been against the idea began to yell loudly. The bells over the café door clashed together in an earsplitting cacophony, the thud of heavy boots on concrete bore down fast, and an enraged snarl erupted from behind them half a second before Daxter was dropped. He landed in the gutter, in a puddle of muddy water and trash, the air knocked out of him good and proper.
Today, was not a good ottsel day.
When Daxter regained the breath to prop himself on his arms and look up, Jak had pinned the older boy to the lamp post and was holding him there, several inches off the ground.
“I think you need a little lesson on what happens when you try to take things that aren’t yours,” Jak growled, close enough to the kid’s face that their noses were almost touching.
“I wasn’t doing anything, honest!” It was panic-babble, now. Any lie to get him out of the massive beating Jak was about to lay down. “I was j-just gonna h-hold it for a minute!”
“Daxter is not an IT!” Jak roared, tossing him away from the post and into a stumble. He hit the bricks that made up the front wall of the café and Jak tensed for a pounce, fighting light in his eyes.
“Jak!”
The green-blonde looked back at once as Daxter crawled slowly, painfully, back onto the sidewalk, the leash dragging behind him. “Dax, are you okay?”
“Leave it. Leave them. They’re not worth it an’ we’re makin’ a huge scene.” He held a hand gingerly over his side. A bruise would bloom under the muddied fur, he could feel it already. “We gotta get back.”
Before Jak could make up his mind which to listen to, his best friend or his blood-lust, the punks were making a break for it. They sprinted down the walk, ducked into an alley, and were gone. Jak cursed under his breath, ears laid back to their extreme. “Dammit. I should’ve at least broken his arm.”
Dax grinned weakly as he limped over and Jak gently picked him up. “Don’t feel too bad, big guy. Ya scared him so bad he pissed himself. At least that’s somethin’.”
Jak tucked the ottsel to his chest and paused. “Really?”
“Ottsel nose.” Daxter wrinkled it with another grin, this one more heartfelt. “It never lies.”
Slowly Jak smiled too, disregarding the sizable crowd that had gathered to stare. “Awesome.”
Settling his head under Jak’s chin, Daxter curled up tight in the strong arms that held him. “Totally. Now, let’s make tracks, huh?”
Wordlessly Jak pulled in the slack of the leash and draped it over his arm. Their cover might have been blown, but at least the KG hadn’t arrived yet to check out the short fight. There was still time to get gone. They started off down the walk at a brisk pace, Jak making no move to shift the ottsel up onto his shoulder—and for once, Daxter was content to be held like a child.
- // - // - // - // -
(2^nd)AN: Aww. Dax is having a rough day. Maybe Jak can think up something to make him feel better…?
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