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Love is War	By : grimreaperchibi Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 4214 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Jak & Daxter, nor the places, people, or objects within. I make no money writing this. Additional disclaimer within.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: Whoa, look at that. An update that didn't take me a month and half to get around to.
Amaronith: I give you official permission to copy, paste and make a blanket out of this fic if you should so desire. I think that's about the only way to snuggle with it.
Robin: I'm going to take away your powers of preview if you keep slacking in the review department. It's going to get terribly boring here at the beginning if I have nothing to say.
Additional Disclaimer: The lyrics used within are part of the fair use clause of copyright law and remain the property of the individual artists and recording companies to which they belong. Any misconstruing/mistyping of the lyrics is strictly the fault of the author. All lyrics are used here only for setting ambience.
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Chapter 4 – True Believer (E-Type)
Jak hissed. Daxter scowled. The boy beside them peered out from between his fingers. The crocadog beside him whined.
“You, shut it,” the redhead growled, not looking up from his gory work. “No one wants yer opinion.” He did spare a glance to the boy, who was obviously both horrified and fascinated with what he was seeing. Daxter nudged him with his arm. “Hey, kiddo. Why don’tcha go see if Vin’s got any water, hm?” Wide blue eyes stared at him. “It’d really help me out if ya could.” He was stared at a little while longer before receiving a nod. The boy wandered away, crocadog in tow. Daxter waited until they were across the room before grumbling under his breath, “Dumb-ass mutt’s gonna get us all killed.” He looked up when Jak chuckled. “What?”
A grimace accompanied the soft sound. “Never figured you as the type who’d do well with kids.”
“An’ I never figured the KG could hit the broadside of a barn, but here we are…” The blood on his fingers was starting to get tacky. He gingerly lifted the gauze he’d plastered to Jak’s side to see how the wound was clotting. After what seemed like an eternity, it finally was. Thank the Precursors for finally doing something useful. He put it back and pressed a little harder, earning another hiss of pain.
“F-found it!” Vin announced, producing a battered metal box from somewhere. With the same precision he did everything with, the engineer unloaded his medical supplies, eyeing the two bloody renegades in a controlled, assessing way that completely contradicted his usual paranoid mania. “Is that going to need stitches?” he asked, staring at the hand pressed to Jak’s side.
“Shouldn’t. Bleedin’s almost stopped,” Daxter answered.
“It’s still a pretty bad place to get injured,” Vin countered, gently peeling back the gauze to look for himself. “See? You can already see where just standing has opened it wider.”
“An’ stitchin’ it closed is gonna do what? More damage when he rips ‘em out two hours later when we get in a fight somewhere, that’s what. Tape it closed, compression bandage to support, an’ I tear through the port until we find a crate with green eco. Problem solved.”
“Can we stop talking like I’m not here?” Jak huffed, interrupting the ensuing argument. “Dax’s got a point. I’ll just rip it back open. It needs to be closed permanently. Now.”
The warm fuzzy feeling at having Jak side with him promptly dissolved when Vin nodded. “Cauterization would probably be the better choice, given everything you do. Are you sure, though? It’s gonna hurt a lot.”
“I’m used to pain.”
“Whoa! Wait! What?” The outburst was ignored. Vin nodded nervously as he turned to gather whatever it was he needed as Jak relaxed back against the blinking console behind him. “Tell me that wasn’t it sounded like. Hey!” Daxter’s jaw clicked shut as darker-than-normal blue eyes bored into him. Jak didn’t have to say a word that point, the sting was felt anyway. He straightened up, biting back his first scathing response. “Fine. Do whatever the hell ya want. Ya do anyway.” There was a moment of dawning realization in Jak’s face as he turned away, but Daxter was too ticked off to really care if the blond got it or not. He turned away and stalked to the other side of the platform.
Well, the break had been nice while it lasted. The last several weeks had been relatively quiet compared to their normal streak of mayhem. Relegated back to errand boys for the most part, it had pretty much been one odd-job after another. Mostly “take this message here” for Torn, or “pick up this package” for Krew, things that generally took little to almost no time to accomplish and would have had him complaining about their simplicity being beneath their skills if he hadn’t been so intent on using that extra free time keeping his mouth glued to Jak’s. They hadn’t done anything more exciting than the tongue tango and some timid, stilted petting, but for now, that was enough because Jak was kissing him back. It also meant that Daxter was learning to love cold showers and that was mostly fine, too. They’d take as long as they needed to take to get to the other things because there was something endlessly endearing about watching a man who started brawls for fun become shy, hesitant, and easily embarrassed. If nothing else, it proved that the Jak from Sandover, whose greatest hardship had been trying to find ways to escape boredom, was still at the heart of Jak of Haven. And that meant there was hope for calming the restless anger still simmering under the skin.
But the honeymoon was over now. He knew he should be grateful for all the unabridged time they’d gotten to settle into being more than just best friends. The uncomfortable newness had worn off and they could speak, touch, and look each other in the eye without blushing or stammering like the awkward teenagers they were supposed to be. They were a solid unit again before going out on a high-risk, low-gain venture of some sort. He still wanted to rip out that log from its spot in that ridiculous-looking afro and beat Samos with it.
Too busy to watch the kid my ass, Daxter thought with a sneer. Too damn lazy’s more like it. How in hell that man managed to raise a daughter was beyond him. Especially since he knew Keira had been an obnoxious brat through most of early childhood. This kid everyone was convinced was the heir-apparent for a throne and kingdom on the edge of annihilation was a gods-sent gift by comparison. Old enough to have enough sense of self the constant shuffling between caretakers and locations wasn’t upsetting, smart enough to follow conversations that should have been over his head, quiet to the point of being mute while still being able to entertain himself for long hours on end…what wasn’t there to love about a child like that? More importantly, what was Samos doing that required so much concentration he couldn’t be bothered to look up every once in a while and see if the kid was still there? Speaking of which…
He whistled softly, one of the few benefits of having teeth like his, gaining first the crocadog’s attention, and then the boy’s. He waved them closer; no one needed to see what Vin was doing, let alone a kid. Besides, it gave him something to do while this terrible-to-begin-with idea played itself out.
“Hey.” He managed a tired smile when they were close enough. “You okay?” There was a thoughtful blink. “That tumble earlier didn’t do anythin’ like this, did it?” He pointed to the street burn on his arm. There was another thoughtful blink before the boy started twisting around, looking himself over for injury. Daxter snorted in an attempt to keep from laughing as the crocadog “helped” by sniffing, earning a ticklish giggle—the first sound he’d ever heard from another kid as well.
At this point, the answer to his question was obvious and a little piece of stress melted away. As badly as it had sucked jumping from the still-moving-at-high-speed zoomer right before it exploded, he would have felt worse if something had happened to his temporary charge. Boy grabbed crocadog, Daxter grabbed boy, and Jak had hurled them all as far as he could, taking the brunt of the heat and shrapnel, which was what had left a good-sized hole just above his hip. Landing hard and sliding on his side had still hurt like a bitch, but nothing on Daxter was broken or punctured, just contused and abraded. It was nice to know the pain had been worth something.
His ears twitched, catching the hastily swallowed snarl as the air took on the greasy, caustic smell of burning flesh. It took a lot of willpower to not turn around and make the whole thing stop, especially when a sympathy pain blossomed in his side. It was like the worst cramp of his life coupled with the slow, burning pain of deeply infect cut. And nothing he did eased it.
Small hands tugged at his shirt, effectively drawing his attention out of himself. The kid looked up with big, concerned eyes. “S’okay,” Daxter reassured, taking the opportunity to sit down. That helped a little bit. “Big guys like me an’ Jak are designed to take it.” The little one didn’t seem convinced. “I mean it! We’re the genuine article. Saved the world once an’ everythin’.”
For all that good that’d done in the end… He didn’t say that, barely even let the thought cross his mind. Instead, he got caught up in what he did second best: telling stories. It had been fur-raising to actually live through, but the whole thing made one hell of an impressive tale to tell. It was somewhat cathartic, too, about being able to share that little piece of history with someone who wouldn’t laugh or doubt the veracity of his words, even if he was exaggerating in a few places.
He was just getting to their dramatic entrance into Rock Village when a tiny, weird shiver went up his spine. He paused and looked up to see Kor standing not far away with a rather funny look on his face…and not the relaxed, enjoying something kind of funny. “Uh, hey there. Samos said to bring the kid here, that you’d look after him.”
Kor blinked and the weird look disappeared under a smooth smile. “Ah, yes. I did.” The smile sharpened a bit when the kid ran to his side. “I’ll make sure to keep him close.”
For the second time since the day they’d met, Daxter felt like something was wrong with the old man. Creepy wrong, like an axe murderer neighbor or that random stranger your gut tells you never turn your back to on the off chance that’s a knife they’re clutching just out of sight. He wanted to pull the kid away, back to his side and keep him there until he knew what exactly was giving him the willies. Which was stupid because it was Kor, the guy who’d directed them to Torn and the Underground in the first place and was one of the few willing to say thank you for all the work he and Jak put in. What was there to get so worked up over? Seriously, the man was trusted by Vin, and Vin was practically afraid of his own shadow. The only other one to share his opinion at the moment was the crocadog that seemed to hate everyone. Not exactly the greatest backup to have on hand…
As usual, Jak saved him from doing something awkward and regrettable, this time by taking up a conversation with Kor about being good with animals as he quieted the crocadog’s growling. The more they talked, the more it sounded like a prelude to another mission. With a quiet sigh, Daxter pushed himself back to his feet, cringing as his body protested. He still had a twinge in his side and all the muscles he’d landed on were stiffening up. Vin was kind enough to hand him something to wipe the mostly dried blood from his hands. He was trying to decide how much he cared about the gore under his nails when he felt another tug on his shirt.
“Yo, squirt. Looks like story time’s over for the day. We’ll pick it up some other time, ‘kay?” He couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiastic nod. Not even Jak was that interested in what he had to say. The expression morphed into a soft frown. A kid that old had to have a name, or at least a street handle, yet no one ever used it. For someone who was so important, it was odd always referring to him as “The Kid.” “Ya know, there’s somethin’ I been meanin’ to ask you. You got a name, right?” Another nod, this one more than a bit subdued. “You wanna tell me it? We’d be real friends that way.”
The boy’s mouth opened, but he slapped a hand over it before a sound was made. A sad look took a hold of those expressive eyes, his gaze lingering a bit too long on hands still streaked with blood as he slowly shook his head “no.” Daxter frowned some more as he knelt down. “Hey, it’s okay, don’t worry ‘bout it. As long as ya don’t mind bein’ called ‘Evil Widgit’, then we’ll call it close enough. Only good friends get nicknames anyway.” A little giggle was his answer. “I’m Orange Lightnin’, also known as Dax the Metal Masher, or just Daxter, if ya wanna be borin’ about it. If ya ever need somethin’, I got yer back, all right?” A smile accompanied the nod this time. “Good ta have ya onboard, Widgit. I’ll catch ya later.”
The ensuing laughter was enough to put a smile on his face throughout the entire long walk to the airbus waiting in the port. It was only after they were settled in for the ride to wherever (he hadn’t really been paying attention and holy damn, couldn’t the jerk driving give a little warning before take off—like making sure his passengers we all the way in before hitting the throttle?) that he pulled out his knife and carefully started scraping out under his nails. He was going to have to more careful about that in the future.
No one needed to be reminded that their very name caused bloodshed.

***

“Well, that was more fun than it shoulda been.” Daxter flopped face-down onto the bed. “Ow.”
He was now thoroughly convinced of two things. One, it was possible to strain every muscle in the body without actually breaking something and two, the world really was out to get him. Okay, so maybe he deserved to be knocked flat by the aftershock destroying those eco wells produced, but didn’t he also have the right to feel a little cocky? Sure, it had been his fault all the plasmite bombs had been armed before getting to the Strip Mine, increasing the difficulty of their task exponentially. He’d still offered to take on the task alone, had still helped destroy over half the wells by himself and had even found the last well Jak had skipped right over. He’d made a mistake, fixed said mistake, and what was his reward? Having the wind forcefully knock from his lungs and blood dripping from his ears.
As if the threat of being blown to gooey bits hadn’t been enough to get the blood pumping, he’d then had to strap himself to the outside of a turret cage and take potshots at Krimzon Guard Flightsuits with the blaster rifle while Jak tried to take down a tanker with the turret itself. Why? Because not going with Jak, no matter how inconvenient or impractical it was in the end, it was too much like getting left behind.
A large hand slipped into his hair and Daxter groaned into the blanket. “You’re mumbling again,” Jak said in an amused tone. Unable to lift his head and glare properly, an annoyed finger flip was offered instead. His hand was adjusted so that his displeasure was shown to the correct party. He grumbled and rolled away, even though that meant losing the fingers running along his scalp. It felt too good, pulling out the stress from an over-tired body. It was almost enough to send him right off to the sleep he’d more than earned today. But sleep wouldn’t get the gun oil off his hands, or wash the anxious sweat off his skin, or pick a few more pieces of gravel from under the scabs along his arm and hip. Leaving it all until the morning was a bad idea, no matter how much his brain tried to disagree with it. So he found his feet and the last of his willpower and started for the bathroom.
“Dax?”
“No, ‘m still mad at you.”
It was pretty much auto-pilot from there on. Start the water, strip down one piece at a time, look for anything that might need a stitch or three to remain useful. Check self for anything still bleeding, possible infection, unwanted passengers, and then the temperature of the water. If clear and warm, step in. If not, re-inspect everything. He winced when the spray hit his face; sometimes the pressure was nonexistent and sometimes it could strip enamel. For now, it was still harder than he would have liked, but that may have just been the soreness talking. He leaned against the ugly tile and let the water do most of the work. His eyes drifted shut as the white noise filled his still aching ears, fingers absently picking at anything raised on his skin.
“—xter? Daxter!”
He jerked back to himself, momentarily confused about where he was and what he’d been doing. Cold tile pressed against his back. His arms were pinned over his head, wrists held in a single strong grip. He was being constrained against the wall bodily, the larger bulk keeping him from squirming free or getting leverage to kick…and there were two fingers pressed to his temple—the sign he’d given Jak to indicate he was safe in situations where instinct overrode all else. Daxter took a deep breath and relaxed. Slowly, carefully, he was released. Jak stepped back, concern written all over his face.
“You okay?”
Still slightly dazed, Daxter blinked, mind cheerfully occupied with other things. Jak was in the shower with him. Jak was naked and in the shower with him, and oh holy damn, did he look nice with all that water running over skin still tanned from a childhood filled with sand and sea, emphasizing sleek muscle attached to a body that had grown up in all the right ways. Damp hair, the colour of burnished gold now that it was wet, clung attractively to his shoulders and neckline, the smaller pieces usually held back by goggles now curling slightly against his face. In the yellowed light with wisps of steam and spray surrounding him, Jak looked nothing less than a sex god come to earth and what wouldn’t Daxter do to—
Fingers snapped in front of his nose. For the second time in probably as many minutes, the redhead jerked back to the present, this time cracking his head against the wall as well. “Ow! Yeah, what? I’m fine.” This time, he got smart and found somewhere else to look so he didn’t become distracted again. “Whaddya want?”
“I want to know if you’re okay.”
“Told ya, I’m fine.”
“This is not fine.” His arm was pulled out in front of him. He could only stare at the gory mess the stretch of skin had become. In his unthinking quest to be rid of all the extra material that had been shoved under his skin, his fingers had torn everything apart, leaving bleeding furrows from shoulder to wrist. There was still blood and skin under the nails of his other hand. If he hadn’t been stopped, how much more damage would he have done?
“I wasn’t thinkin’,” he said somewhat weakly, twisting free from Jak’s grasp. His wrist was released, but there was still a heavy, demanding overtone to his friend’s posture that said that wasn’t answer enough. And his arm was starting to sting. Irritated, Daxter growled, “What do you want from me?”
It was like a switch had been flipped. Suddenly Jak was the one having a hard time making eye contact and there was a suspect red tinge slowly working its way down his ears. From renegade merc to fumbling teenager in point-six seconds flat. It would have been funny if the redhead hadn’t felt so aggravated by it all in the first place. “You seemed really tired…” the blond stammered. “It didn’t seem like you were going to get through a shower before falling asleep, so I…I thought I’d come in and…help…” He trailed off quietly, staring very hard at the wall just to the right of Daxter’s face. He had almost turned into a tomato from embarrassment, the colour taking over all the way down to his chest as his hands began to twitch.
Well, that was an interesting leap his friend had just taken. Daxter had no quandaries when it came to bearing skin—never had before and probably cared even less now. Modesty was ill-suited to street life, even if he’d never gone full monty professionally. Jak, on the other hand, was painfully body shy. Yet, still, even now, after all the patch-ups their misadventures left them with, he rarely undressed more than was absolutely necessary, and certainly never completely in front of someone, best friend included. It was the biggest reason they’d never done more than make out. Jak had freaked when roving fingertips tried to sneak up under his tunic the first time, and still jumped now when hands went much past his shoulders. Daxter knew he should be grateful he was allowed to touch period. No one else was allowed to get that close in the first place, let alone get away with some of the things he did. It meant he was trusted, and that that trust could be easily broken. So he kept his hands firmly planted on shoulders or tangled in hair until Jak got bold enough to do more.
This, however, was not the next step he’d envisioned taking. He’d resigned himself to weeks of casual touching, friendly, non-threatening brushes of hands across places that weren’t even all that intimate, maybe lingering on those certain areas that invoked a sharper reaction than others. Having Jak just jump into the shower with him was still relegated to the “keep dreaming” section of his brain. The amount of self-sacrifice the blond was showing with an action like this would have been normal in any other situation but this one. After such a carefully slow build up, why would he suddenly crash headlong into unfamiliar territory?
…Because Daxter had been pushing away, still angry and slightly hurt since their argument at the Power Station. They’d gone from spending damn near every waking hour in a lip-lock to practically nothing two days ago. Interesting—two days was enough to make Jak insecure enough to do something desperate and badly planned. It was nice to know Daxter wasn’t the only one who’d been losing sleep. So what to do next…
He peeled himself off the wall and stepped close, carefully laying his hands on Jak’s chest. His gaze was met evenly, though he could see nerves fizzling around the sides. Good; that meant neither of them knew what was supposed to come next, and therefore there were no expectations to hold up. “Did I manage to hit ya?”
Some of the nervousness melted away, allowing a small smile to form. “No, but you stomped on my toes pretty good.” Since they both knew it would take a tank running over his foot before Jak would take any serious damage, Daxter stepped a little closer, unable to stop his hands from sliding across warm, wet skin. His palms skimmed up as fingers traced collarbones, following the flare until he could curl them over broad shoulders. Gently, he pushed Jak further under the spray.
“C’mon, big guy, let’s get cleaned up before the hot water gives out, hm?”
It was really just a flimsy excuse to touch whatever could be reached. But Daxter held to that excuse with everything he had left, reminding himself that it wasn’t Jak’s fault that it was only recently that any sort of physical contact had not equated out to pain. The man was missing two years, for Precursors’ sake, practically living in emotional “pause” while the rest of him took a twisted detour. It was going to take longer than just a few months to get over something like that. Nor was it his fault that Daxter’s body already knew what it wanted and tended to be as impatient as the rest of him. Jak had said at the very beginning he didn’t know what he wanted and Daxter had accepted that, so he had no one else to be frustrated with other than himself.
But watching Jak’s eyes slip closed and his lips part in a soft moan as shampoo was worked into damp hair was nigh on torture. He wanted to touch, and pet, and stroke everything, not just hair and shoulders when his hands had to do something to keep him grounded. He wanted to find all those places that caused moans, gasps, and twitches. Grand Precursor Gods help him, he wanted to lick the water from Jak’s throat and close his mouth over that soft hollow just off to the side until he left a bruise even the scarf couldn’t hide. And then he wanted to leave those bruises all over, every place that earned even the slightest groan.
It was probably one of the worst ideas he’d had in a long time. Considering how excited he was getting just standing there while Jak washed his hair in return, he’d be lucky to finish the shower before he really embarrassed himself. It just made him feel even more guilty when he began running a soaped up washcloth over everything he’d been admiring, feeling those muscles strain and flex as they tried to remain still, trying to be slow and gentle and reassuring that his touch wasn’t going to inflict damage, yet move quickly and efficiently enough so that he could get the hell out of there before he did something stupid—
—like stare at the angry red gash above Jak’s hip. Still blistered and blackened around the edges, it was starting to show the white of scar tissue through the middle. Vin had done a good job minimizing the extra damage. The scar would be heavy, though not really much worse than some of the others Jak bore.
A hand on his cheek helped bring his attention back up. For once, he couldn’t read the blond’s thoughts based on facial expression alone. “You’re still mad about that.” A simple statement that held no accusation, nor any understanding. That more than anything left Daxter compelled to say something in return.
“Yes.” He could see the question forming, see the apology that would follow and didn’t want to hear either. “No, don’t even, Jak. It’s stupid an’ I just need to get over myself.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“Then what the hell do you call it? You were right. It needed to be closed. Who knows how long it’d’ve taken me to find a crate with eco in it? They don’t exactly advertise which ones contain instant pain relief. If nothin’ else, it needed to be done to keep infection out. I’ve seen what wounds like that can turn into…” He couldn’t help the small shudder that accompanied that spark of memory, pushing it away as quickly as it had been brought up. Still enough for Jak to apparently notice because now he was being held in one of those swift, engulfing hugs meant to stabilize the world.
“You’re not stupid,” Jak reaffirmed softly in his ear, and this time, Daxter didn’t have the energy to argue. “I just don’t understand why it bothers you.”
“’Cuz you can take that pain, but I can’t. I can’t just sit off to the side and do nothin’…for the same reasons I can’t let ya out on a mission by yerself. Even if it’s the right thing to do, I can’t step aside…” He wanted to hide in Jak’s neck and pretend the world didn’t exist, if only for a moment, but wasn’t allowed. His face was cupped, forcing their eyes to meet again.
“I wasn’t trying to push you out.” Jak leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss of apology to lips ready to protest some more. The pull back was brief and then they were kissing again, a bit harder this time. Each one lead to another, and then another, until they were doing a lot more than just making up.
Daxter fought hard to keep himself under control even though he knew it was a losing battle. There was too much want bound by too little conscious will. Jak’s mouth was soft, yet still demanding against his own, the tongue caressing his bold in both presence as well as action. A far cry from the nervous, sweetly shy kisses of even a week ago, but anything less would have driven him insane. His back hit the cold tile again and he automatically arched away from it, slamming his fully aroused body right into Jak. It felt better than it had any right to, so much that his hips bucked twice more before he could use the shock of ice on his spine to still them. He whined when a thigh pressed between his legs and damn near screamed when a hand that wasn’t his own wrapped around his aching cock, giving an almost sadistically gentle squeeze. It was enough to free his mouth and gasp, “No! Jak—“
“You don’t want?” The question was all but purred against his throat, dark and slightly breathless as the hand began slowly pumping.
Hell yes, he wanted. Wanted so badly that he almost didn’t have a choice anymore. But not at Jak’s expense. “Ya don’t haft—ah!—hafta do this!”
Whatever wonderful thing Jak was doing to his neck stopped. “And if I want to do this?”
The twig his sanity had been resting upon snapped. Daxter dragged Jak up, kissing him hard enough that their teeth clicked together before shoving his tongue as far down Jak’s throat as he could manage. One hand fisted into wet hair to keep their mouths together while the other clawed down Jak’s spine, earning a snarl. His weight shifted as one leg curled up over a sturdy hip, which was obligingly caught and held, giving him the leverage needed to thrust into the hand still tight around him. There was a moment of painful uncertainty when the blond froze, obviously taken off guard, but there was nothing Daxter could do to stop now. Cold water and self abuse could take the edge off, make control seem like more than a simple lack of an erection. Nothing got rid of the want, though. Just masked it over, letting it build in the background until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. Right now, Daxter was about ten steps beyond that point and still running. Stopping would require being forcefully pried off or waiting until exhaustion made it impossible to continue…and maybe not even then.
It was only a moment, and then Jak was pushing back just as hard, all teeth and tongue and deep rumbling growls that ended in breathy moans, possessive kneading and that large, warm body pressing closer. It was suffocating, intoxicating as frustration poured out through desperate movement. Their kiss broke down as Jak’s hand finally found the counter-rhythm to Daxter’s rolling hips, leaving them both panting harshly until need made him pull Jak’s head aside so that he could taste the water running down his neck. It tasted better than anything he could remember, addictive to the point that he’d probably make himself sick trying to lick it all away. He didn’t have to be careful, though, because as soon as he touched a spot that made Jak shiver, he bit down.
The body against his jerked with another snarl, the hand he was thrusting into tightening all the more. It was just enough and too much. Daxter chocked on his scream of completion, arching hard enough to smack his head against the wall again, but he didn’t feel it. All he felt was hot, liquid, and completely undone as the tension drained out, one hard pulse at a time, until he was boneless and floating in an odd sort of contentment.
When there was finally enough blood back in his brain to allow thought, it wasn’t the ache in his head or the cramping in his fingers that took first notice. No, it was the way he could feel Jak staring at him. Daxter forced his tired eyes open (Why couldn’t he go to sleep yet? It was a good reason, if he could just remember…) and felt the sudden urge to cry. Not a sad cry, or a pained cry, but one that was so happy it had to leak out through tears. Flushed and still winded, Jak probably wasn’t even aware he was staring, let alone staring with such an unguarded look in his eyes. Darker than they had been in Sandover, lighter than those heavy moments right before the decent in to eco rage, and totally unhindered by any of the paltry emotions either situation held, Jak’s eyes had turned a twilight hue of blue that was breath stealing on its own. But those eyes had been their sole means of communication for nearly ten years; Daxter could hear more there than any words now voiced. Unveiled right down to the core, what he saw now was enough to stop hearts.
There was no adequate way to describe it beyond the fact that it was Jak. Everything Jak would ever be, had been, was right now. Fragile and strong, shy smiles and intense gazes, the power to destroy and tender touches, everything known and unfamiliar other, and oh so devastatingly beautiful in all forms. This was the Jak he’d fallen for, the one he’d do anything to protect, the one he’d been fighting so hard to bring back from the halls of madness, from under layers of anger and agony since the very minute they’d occupied the same space again. In that moment, Daxter knew he’d never love anyone as much as he loved Jak. As sappy and clichéd as it sounded, it was an absolute truth. And having that man look at him with contentment and warmth was enough to overwhelm his already bruised little heart.
“Jak…” he breathed against already swollen lips before tenderly pressing into yet another kiss. Soft, sweet, adoring. A kiss solely for the sake of showing affection. Hands that had been rather cruel only minutes before once more relaxed, pulling free in order to trace over ears and cheeks. The break that came next was natural, but Daxter had to steal one more little peck. “…I love you.”
He hadn’t really said it since his halting confession when it had just been blurted out since it seemed to make his friend uncomfortable. Jak still didn’t seem to know what to do with that little set of words, but not saying it still felt like the greater crime. He’d meant it that day in Haven Forest; it was just a little more potent now. Then, he’d needed to hear some sort of affirmation. This time the press of lips to his forehead and the quiet “I know” that followed was more than enough to keep the languid warmth swirling through his system long after they made their way back to the bed.
***
I am here and now because of you.

You're the reason I do what I do.

Like a phantom, when you call me, I'll be there.

Any time that I'm around, you shouldn't fear.

Because of you, that's what I do.

Because of you, I'm a true believer.
~True Believer – E-type~
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To be continued.
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Love is War