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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
There were plenty of requests that Daxter had never expected to have to make, in college or otherwise. “Please wash your ferret more quietly” was one of them. The redhead stared blankly at the math book spread open on the desk in front of him. The entirety of his concentration was being leeched by the production taking place on the rug behind him, starring his roommate and a very wet, very disagreeable ferret.
“Fer the love of—Jak, could you maybe hurry it along a little? I’m tryin’ ta study, here!”
“No, you’re trying to cram. There’s a difference.”
“I tell ya I’m power studying! It’s like power napping. Just different.”
Jak blocked Killer from escaping the Ferret Bucket with one hand and poured a cup of warm water over him with the other. A bottle of special shampoo lay abandoned on the rug beside them. “Sorry. I’m going as fast as I can. He’s not being very cooperative and it’s not easy in such a small space, you know?”
The green-blonde had turned up with The Ferret Bucket a week or so after he turned up with the ferret, on the grounds that taking Killer to the showers wasn’t an option if they didn’t want his existence known to everyone in the dorm. Daxter had to admit that the logic was sound. The bucket had been holding their dish soap and laundry detergent, as the ferret hadn’t become dirty enough to warrant needing its usage—until that night, anyway.
“Yeah, yeah. I know it needed done. But trust yer weasel ta take a dive in the soda ocean at midnight when I got an exam in eight hours!” It was empty griping, but it made him feel better.
“I still can’t figure out why he did that,” Jak grumbled as he tried and mostly failed to clean behind tiny ears. “He’s never shown any interest in cups before.”
It was almost cute, in retrospect, the ferret sneaking onto Jak’s desk to twine himself around the big Styrofoam fountain soda cup and chew on the straw. The part that happened after—the part that involved said soda and said ferret plummeting off the desk and Jak and Daxter cracking heads in an attempt to intercept the impending disaster—wasn’t so cute. Sticky floor, sticky rug, sticky pet, and lingering headache meant that Dax had gotten considerably less done than he had hoped during his “power study” session.
Finally Jak lifted Killer from the bucket. “There, all done. Not so bad.” He plunked the sopping ferret into a waiting towel and ruffled the bundle soundly until its inmate was mostly dry. “Okay. Back in the cage. And stay clean, you little punk.”
“Oh, yeah, ya sure told him,” Daxter grumbled as he found his pencil once more. “I highly doubt weasels go out’a their way ta listen when their handlers talk.”
Jak cocked his head curiously and came to stand next to Daxter’s desk. He leaned casually against the support of the bunk bed, simply watching. “Are you okay? You seem kind of stressed out.”
“Stressed out? Why would I be stressed out? I’m not stressed out!”
The green-blonde winced and rubbed at his ear. “Okay. Then why is your voice cracking?”
Daxter blinked silently up at him. His mouth fell open. And he let out everything that had been building for the past three days. “Well, Jakkie-boy, my voice might be crackin’ because I might have a huge freakin’ math exam first thing in the morning, and it might be really hard ta bring my grade back up if I bomb this thing, and then I might get put on academic probation, and get all those pity scholarships taken away, and get kicked out’a school, and have nowhere ta go! Oh, yeah, and let’s not forget that two hours after this awesome test, I have this really fantastic race ta run in, with the whole damn dorm watchin’ me! And after that, hot damn, gotta go turn in that job application, yeah boy! I’ve never had a job before, Jak! Do I look like I can handle a job? And where the hell are all my socks?! Have you seen my socks, because they’re all disappearin’, every damn pair of ‘em—!”
“Daxter.” A big hand landed on his shoulder, making the redhead jump in his chair. Jak stared at him with wide eyes. “I think this is entirely essential to your health—breathe.”
Wow, how about that. Daxter sucked in a deep breath, only suddenly realizing that he was panting for air and the pencil in his fist was cracking with the force of his grip. Calm. Enter the calm. Then Jak moved suddenly, from beside him to behind him, and there were two hands on his shoulders instead of one. Two very strong hands, uncomfortably close to his neck. The redhead ducked instinctively, sinking down in his chair as he tried to squirm out from under them.
“Hey, hold still. Let me try something.”
“Strangling me ain’t gonna help! I’m desperate, but not enough ta need put out’a my misery!”
Jak snorted. In a moment he had Daxter under the arms and had hauled him upright again. “I’m not strangling you, I’m helping you. Stay still.”
The kneading that began a moment later was completely unexpected, and the simple fact that it had come as such a surprise would have been enough to snap Daxter out of his borderline hysteria. As it was, the attempted soothing made him freeze in shock as Jak began to rub his shoulders.
“Damn, you really are knotted up,” Jak commented as his palms cupped bony shoulders and his fingers dug into tense muscle. “Feels like you’ve been wound up for a week.”
“Y-yeah?” Maybe because he had been.
“Yeah. Tell me if something hurts, okay?”
The redhead managed a short, jerky nod and sat very still. How were you supposed to respond to something like this? He’d never had a shoulder rub in his life. For lack of knowing what to do Daxter simply sat and quivered, shivers running up and down his spine as Jak’s strong hands forced the tightness from his shoulders and the back of his neck. Oh, this was weird. This was so weird. All this touchy-feely had to be weird, right? But it felt sooo nice.
He loosed a soft, less than manly squeak when Jak changed course and began to rub up the sides of his stiff neck, kneading circles up to just under his flagging ears before backtracking to repeat the process. Every hair on Daxter’s body stood up at the foreign sensation. He could feel his ears flushing alarmingly.
Jak laughed. “Feels good, huh?”
Daxter mumbled an agreement, red ears drooping. It felt much too good to make his roommate stop, at any rate. Even if it was a little bit weird.
“Keira taught me how to do this. She used to rub my neck for me after games. She’s really good at it. A lot better than me, anyway. Do you feel like it’s helping any?”
“Mmmph.” Daxter gave a bleary nod in the affirmative and slumped forward in his chair, head pillowed on the math book he had disliked so much just a few minutes before. It felt like his bones were slowly turning into goo. He could get used to this.
Damn, Jak certainly was multitalented. He was a good student, a great football player, gave top notch shoulder rubs, and made a mean cup of microwave noodles. Mmm, noodles… As if on cue, Daxter’s stomach rumbled loudly.
Jak laughed. He stepped back and let Daxter sit up again. “Jeez, Dax, did you even eat dinner?”
“No.” He stretched, feeling a pleasantly warm tingle in his shoulders and neck. “Wasn’t hungry.”
Jak’s smile faded. “Have you eaten anything today?”
“Sure I did. I had an apple fer breakfast. And milk.”
“Dax!” The green-blonde looked almost scandalized.
“What? Just ‘cause you need enough food ta power a small country doesn’t mean everybody else—what’re you doin’?”
Jak had grabbed the Ferret Bucket. He had a purposeful gleam in his eye. “I’m going to the utility room to dump this, and then we’re going to get food.”
“Uh, hellooo, Earth ta Jak.” Daxter grabbed his clock from the back of the desk and waved it at his roommate. “It’s past midnight. The dining room’s closed. An’ even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t get nothin’ anyway. Dinner call ended hours ago an’ I don’t have extra points on my meal card like some people.” As if. State-supported tuition and funding only went so far, and thus his on-the-house meal plan was exceptionally basic. He should probably feel grateful they were feeding him at all.
Jak’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. He sat the bucket back on the rug and crossed to his own desk. A short dig through one of its drawers saw him emerge triumphantly a moment later, a menu held up for Daxter to see. Bamboo Express: 24-hour delivery.
Daxter huffed and looked pointedly back to his math book. “Sure. Fine. Do whatever ya want, pal. I’m studyin’, not eatin’.” And that was his final answer.
- // - // - // - // -
Twenty minutes later they were both cross-legged on the rug with white take out cartons of eggrolls, sesame chicken, lo mein, and fried rice. Daxter ate ravenously, as Jak had known he would.
“Cheater,” Jak teased, pointing at Daxter with his chopsticks.
“Hey, whatever!” Another forkful of noodles disappeared. “I can’t even cross my fingers an’ you expect me ta eat with sticks? Yeah, right.”
The green-blonde chuckled. “See, isn’t this better than cramming?”
“Yeah, sure. If I fail that test tomorrow I’m blamin’ you.”
“Dax, you’re not going to fail it. You do your assignments… mostly. You go to class… a big percentage of the time. You do pretty well on the quizzes. Right?”
Daxter’s ears flicked back. “Well, yeah. But this is a test, Jak! The entire purpose of tests is ta make ya fail ‘em!”
Jak arched a brow. “Oh, really? Here I always thought they were supposed to make sure you really understand what you’re studying. How did I go so wrong for so many years?”
“Smart ass,” Daxter pouted.
“Seriously. You’ll be fine. Have a little faith in yourself. You know this stuff.” Jak offered his friend a fortune cookie. “And if you get stuck on a problem and feel like you’re starting to stress out, just take a breath and try to remember that page from the book. It really works.”
“Easy fer you ta say,” the redhead grumbled. “Of course you can be confident. You can do everything.”
Jak blinked. “Huh? No, I can’t.”
“Sure ya can. Look at ya. Everything about you’s golden.” Daxter began to tick points off on his fingers. “Yer an athlete, yer popular, ya get good grades, yer cool without even tryin’ ta be, ya got a sexy tomboy girlfriend—”
“Keira isn’t my girlfriend.” It slipped out before Jak could process what he was saying, the only thing he could think of to say that would stop the increasingly agitated list of his imagined perfections.
The tirade ended abruptly and confused blue eyes blinked up at him. “Uh… what?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” Jak’s ears fell sheepishly. “It’s kind of complicated.”
For the first time that night, Daxter looked interested in something other than his looming math exam. “Uh-huh. Explanations? Details?”
Jak rubbed at the back of his neck. How to put this? “Well, Keira and I are best friends. We were joined at the hip from Kindergarten to high school. Everyone just assumed we were dating. It was easier to go along with it than try to explain, you know? And after a while we realized that when everyone thought we were the school’s hottest item, it kept the jerks from hitting on her and the prep girls from hanging all over me. As much.” He grinned at the memories. “So we started keeping up appearances.”
“Wow.” Daxter cracked his fortune cookie into his rice and started to nibble. “I never heard that one before.”
The quarterback shrugged. “It worked. Mostly.”
“So, wait, lemme get this straight. You an’ that machine shop cutie pretended ta go steady fer years? An’ it was only pretend? You two never did anything like a real couple? Holy damn, just think of the buddies with benefits you could’a—”
“Well. Um.” Jak could feel his ears heating up.
“Oh, man, you did! You so totally did!” Daxter pointed accusingly, clearly having fun in his wicked glee. “I knew it!”
“Oh, shut up.” Jak tossed an empty carton at the trash and landed a clear shot. “Yeah, we did. We fooled around all the time. But it wasn’t pervy, okay? And it wasn’t really romantic, either. We were so close already by the time we started doing stuff like that, it felt kind of… natural, I guess. It was comfortable.”
“You lucky sonuva bitch,” Daxter breathed reverently.
“I didn’t used to think so. Do you know how hard it is to jerk off when your best friend could climb in your bedroom window any second, day or night? Before we started helping each other out with that I was permanently paranoid.”
The redhead snickered. “Yeah, I bet.” He went back to his rice, then looked up again. “Hold on. Yer sayin’ that a girl yer own age had round the clock access ta yer room, an’ yer parents never cared? Seriously?”
Jak smirked. “Last time I lived with my parents I was a toddler. And Uncle’s a really heavy sleeper.”
“Sheesh. I say again, sooo lucky.” Daxter leaned back against the front of Jak’s wardrobe, sighing in contentment now that his stomach was finally full. His hand fell to the rug, fingers threading through the fibers. “So. I been wonderin’. You talk about yer uncle all’a time. What happened ta yer parents? If ya don’t mind me pokin’ around where it’s none’a my business.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” Daxter had already divulged much about his life that he didn’t seem quite comfortable with. The very least Jak could do was return the favor. He reached behind himself to the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the small framed photograph lying on top of the pile inside. “Here’s me and my mom and dad. See, they do exist.”
Daxter took the picture and examined it. “Aww, how cute. Fluffy little baby Jakkie. You look like yer mom.” His ears swiveled curiously. “She looks kinda tired.”
“Yeah. She was already sick when we had that picture taken, I guess. She died not long after that.”
Daxter winced. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, really. All the memories I have of us are good ones.” Jak took the picture back and stretched up his arm to put it on the desk. He really needed to find a suitable place to put it out. “Dad didn’t do so well after that, though. He asked Mom’s favorite uncle to look after me while he pulled himself back together, but it took a while. By the time he was ready to take me back I had already settled in with Uncle, so he let me stay. We were together all the time, though.”
“Ya still see him a lot?” The redhead had his chin on his knees, watching Jak very seriously. Too seriously, for him.
“Pretty much every holiday. He’s military, so he wound up getting transferred my junior year. I couldn’t leave Uncle, and Keira, and school. He didn’t have a problem with me staying behind. Guess he didn’t want to uproot me so close to graduation.”
“That’s cool. I mean, it’s cool he still cares.”
“Yeah.” Jak smiled. “You’ll have to meet him sometime. He’s a pretty neat guy. Little gruff, but cool.”
Daxter glanced back up at the photograph. “You kiddin’? He’s huge! Big ol’ military guy an’ little tiny me? I’ve never done a pull up in my life!”
“That’s okay. Just beat him in a foot race. Instant respect.”
“Race. Right.” Daxter instantly looked squeamish.
Jak sighed. He had almost forgotten the evening’s main concern amid their wandering conversations, but it seemed that Daxter sure hadn’t. “Look. You’re going to do great tomorrow. Trust me. You’re going to whip this test, and then you’re going to come back here ready to run because you and me are going to win that race.”
The redhead looked up at him suddenly, eyes wide. “Me… an’ you?”
“Well, yeah. You’re not the only one running, you know. I’m right up there with you.” Jak grinned and reached out a hand, helping his friend to his feet. “Personally, I don’t think Ashelin’s team will have a chance. Not with us on the relay. Maybe we can give them a head start to make it fair.”
“Yeah… Yeah, that’s right!” Suddenly Daxter was smiling again, his relief almost tangible. Apparently Jak had said something right. “That’d totally make it fair. ‘Cause me an’ you are just gonna be too awesome ta handle, right? We’ll be like those ancient soldiers, goin’ into battle together, kickin’ so much ass—”
“Passing out from sheer exhaustion, if we don’t get some sleep.” Jak snaked an arm around Daxter’s neck from behind and pulled him in for a surprise hair ruffle.
“Gah! Leggo, get off, get off!” Daxter squirmed and squealed, but was only able to pull away when Jak laughed and let him go. By that point his hair was spiked in a thousand different directions. He glared, trying to comb it back into place with his fingers. “That’s sad, Jak. Real sad. We’re supposed ta be comrades in arms, an’ you do that ta me!”
It’s because you’re so damn cute, Jak wanted to say. However, he did not want to get kicked in the shin. He needed to be in top form for running himself stupid the next day, and painful experience had taught him well, so he very wisely did not call Daxter a cute widdle ninth grader and try to hug him. Instead, he threw away the remainder of the take out cartons. “Alright, I’m calling it a night.”
“What, so soon?” came the sarcastic reply. “Sun ain’t even up yet. The night’s still young.”
The green-blonde shrugged out of his shirt and checked his alarm, then Killer’s food and water—a nightly pre-bed ritual. “Just don’t stay up too late, alright? You really won’t do well on that test if you’re so tired you can’t keep your eyes open.”
For a moment Daxter looked like he was cooking up an argument. Then his eyes wandered back to his desk, the math book still open on it. Apparently it looked a lot less inviting than his treasured bunk. “… yeah, I guess yer right. If I don’t know that crap by now, I won’t know it by mornin’.”
“You’ll be okay. For the last time.” Jak chuckled and slid into bed. A moment later the lamp on Daxter’s desk clicked off, and the bed frame shook a bit as he nimbly scaled the narrow ladder to the top bunk. Rustle, rustle rustle, aaand… silence.
The silence stretched for several minutes. Jak was almost asleep when the quiet whisper came.
“Hey, Jak?”
“Mmmph.” As intelligent a reply as he was going to manage when his pillow was so soft and inviting.
“Thanks.”
Jak yawned. “For what?”
“Fer the midnight snack. An’ makin’ me feel better. An’ the… neck rub. Thing.”
“No problem. S’what friends are for.” Whatever mumbled answer that might have come was lost on Jak. He fell quickly to sleep with a full stomach, a growing sense of excitement for the coming day, and a lighter heart for having been able to help a little.
- // - // - // - // -
I will not bail. I will not bail. I will not bail.
Daxter’s internal mantra kept his sneakers glued to the bright piece of tape on the sidewalk that curled around the back of Praxis Hall. While every instinct but one was pushing him to bolt from the spot and hide under a shrub until this whole mess was over, that one instinct that said otherwise was enough to override the others: Don’t make Jak look bad. He shifted nervously next to the three other waiting runners, one from each of the remaining halls of the third floor. The butterflies that had invaded his gut during the math exam that morning intensified, bringing all their caterpillars along to join the party.
The redhead sighed. Well, at least in a footrace there were no wrong answers to calculate. All he had to do was run; run, and not trip up between there and the finish line. Part of him was still queasy that he would be the one to make or break the contest for their team, but another part was somehow relieved that the last leg of the course was almost entirely behind the dorm, hidden from the crowds of spectators on the lawn out front. He would only be seen for a few moments, down the final stretch where the sidewalk curled back around to the front of the building and all the way to the finish line.
A sudden bang snapped him from his thoughts. A roar went up from the crowd out front. Ohmygod, it started! Gotta wait for Jak, gotta wait for Jak, gotta wait for Jak—! Razer would be running half the perimeter of the front lawn. He would hand off to Phoenix, who would run the remainder of the lawn sidewalk and hand off to Jak. And Jak would be coming though the trees around the side of the dorm to meet him. The moment of truth had arrived.
When Jak did come sprinting around the side of the building what felt like mere moments—but had to be at least a full minute—later, Daxter was caught off guard. The green-blonde seemed to bring a gust of the season’s first falling leaves with him. His hair blew wildly around his shoulders as usual, despite how often Phoenix offered him hair bands. But what really brought Dax up short was the look of pure happiness on his roommate’s face. Even though Jak was easily three seconds ahead of his closest pursuer, his grin didn’t seem to be stemming from anticipated victory. He was simply happy to be competing, to be moving, to be running through the dappled sunshine and falling leaves and crisp early-autumn air.
Jak’s smile widened as he closed the distance between them. “Ready, Dax?”
Daxter’s feet were already moving when he snagged the plastic barbell from Jak’s outstretched hand. Their palms grazed—he had the marker—and he was bolting in the other direction, keeping 3W in the lead.
“Go for it, Orange Lightning!” Jak laughed as he came to a stop on the strip of concrete Daxter had just left, and the unexpected cheer brought an equally unexpected smile to a freckled face.
Jak really did believe in him, didn’t he? And he already had the lead. Maybe he really did have a chance of winning this thing for them!
Daxter tunneled his focus on the sidewalk in front of him, trying not to think of the other runners behind. The bend in the course that would take them up the side of the dorm past the cafeteria loading dock was approaching rapidly. If he could stay in the lead around that sharp corner it might give him more of an edge. The redhead put on a burst of speed and rounded the turn strides ahead of his opponents. And there, parked smack in the sidewalk less than three feet from the kitchen dock, was a huge delivery truck.
He had half a second to decide to dart for that scant space between brick wall and chrome fender. Going out and around the sudden obstacle would take too long, and the opening was just wide enough for one person at a time to get through. I can do this! I can totally do this!
Then the doors at the rear of the truck swung open with a bang. “Hey, Jerry, can I get a hand? This milk’s getting warm.”
What happened was pure instinct. With no time to change course and too much momentum to stop before colliding with the solid sheet of metal door that had suddenly appeared at chest level, Daxter did the only thing he could—he went down feet first, hit the small pile of fallen leaves already built up against the barrier of the loading dock, and slid under the door in a perfect home plate slide.
“You idiot, move the truck! We’re running here!” The shout from behind and the thud of the doors swinging quickly closed barely registered. Daxter was already back on his feet and flying, adrenaline pulsing double-time.
Did the other guys get through? Did they stop the race? He glanced back over his shoulder right before the sidewalk curved out to the front lawn and saw all three of the other runners still close behind. It seemed that he had been the only one slowed by the road block after all. Oh well, I guess nobody can say I cheated. Must… run… faster!
Run faster he did. He hit the edge of the crowd and breezed past Torn, whose scowl changed at once to amazed and slightly wicked glee when he saw his hall poised on the brink of victory. The thought of what would happen to him at the RA’s hands if he bungled things now spurred Daxter on, and before he could think further he was skidding to a stop several yards past the finish marker.
Torn was next to him in an instant, grabbing his wrist that still clutched the barbell and waving it over their heads. “Win! Win, win, win! In your face, Ashelin!”
The girl in question glared silently from the sidelines, her ears tipping back as her face slowly turned a red to match her hair.
Daxter panted to get his breathing back under control. That was it? He had won? Nothing bad had happened after all? People he didn’t even know were laughing, clapping, and whistling for his victory. He was grinning hugely when a baby rhino plowed into him from behind. Or, at least that’s what it felt like.
“Great job, Dax!” Jak yelled. He lifted the startled redhead off his feet and spun him in a circle, disregarding the panicked yelp the move caused. “I knew you could do it!”
“Put me down, ya psycho!” Daxter yelled, but he was laughing so hard the words lost all relevancy.
“Let’s move it off the sidewalk, people,” Torn called, making herding motions with his arms. He was still grinning somewhat maniacally. “The next floor’s relay is about to start. Hey, where are Phoenix and Razer? Someone needs to take a shot of the winning team. Can I get a camera over here?”
Said teammates appeared through the throngs of spectators in short order, and the spectacle of three obviously attractive athletes grouped together in high spirits made Daxter want to slink backward into the crowd and out of sight—if Jak’s brawny arm wasn’t behind him, keeping him close as they picked their way through said crowd to a less busy spot at the edge of the lawn. It was the strangest feeling in the world to know that right then, he was part of their crowd.
“What happened to you, Daxter?” Phoenix laughed, brushing at the leaves and dirt still clinging to the back of his shirt. “You look like you’ve been rolling in the woods.”
“Better than that,” Jak said before the redhead could respond. “You should have seen the stunt he pulled back there. The track team and the baseball team are going to have a bloody battle to the death over who gets him next season.”
Dax glanced up at him in puzzlement. “Wait, what? You saw that?”
“Yeah. I wanted to see you win, so I ran after you guys. Why so surprised?”
All Daxter could do was shake his head in wonderment as Torn came dashing up again with a camera in hand.
“Alright, men, look victorious. This is our gloating shot and it’s going on the hall bulletin board.”
“Hey, hang on a second,” Jak said.
His painstakingly fine-tuned sixth sense that could detect a jock on the hunt from three locker bays away had to be losing its touch. That was the only explanation of why, when Jak grabbed him again, Daxter didn’t so much as flinch. Even when he suddenly found himself hoisted bodily and clinging to the green-blonde’s back a moment later, all he did was blink down at Jak cluelessly.
“Okay, that’s perfect.” Torn raised the camera. “Say ‘Ashelin lost the bet and now she owes Torn a loser’s forfeit’!”
“She’s totally gonna make you Ex-Lax brownies,” Daxter commented, wrapping his arms around Jak’s shoulders so as not to slip as the camera clicked.
Trophy picture secured, Torn immediately made his exit. Faced with the choice of fighting the crowd to see the rest of the dorm’s halls run their respective relays and finding a spot to simply unwind after their own run, the champions of 3W quietly extricated themselves from the scene of the action and made their way to the quad. The expanse of grass and sunshine was all but empty with everyone clustering around the dorms.
“Let’s sit over here, guys.” Jak chose a large, spreading tree and sat down under it. It was a spot Daxter had caught him napping in on several occasions.
“You know, boy, humanity has invented something called a bench,” Razer said sarcastically, but when Phoenix flopped down next to Jak in the tree’s shade, he grudgingly did too.
Dax snorted as he dropped down on Jak’s other side. “What’s the problem, Fancy Nancy, don’t wanna get yer stockings dirty?”
“Some of us prefer to save on the laundry bill by not lying in the dirt like dogs,” the transfer student growled, blowing a smoke ring at Daxter’s head.
“We’re not in the dirt, we’re in the grass.” Jak stretched out easily, hands behind his head, looking perfectly relaxed. One would have thought he wasn’t competing in a game of much higher stakes in a few short hours. “Did you look over the game plays I sent you last night, Phoenix?”
“Yes. What can I say? I couldn’t have done better myself. We’re going to murder the opposition.”
“Yeeeah. You guys have fun with that.” Daxter smirked as he leaned back against the tree trunk. Running, tripping, crashing, falling at high speeds? Slamming into other players and the ground with enough force to total a sedan? They could keep it.
“You’re coming, right?” Jak asked.
“Eh?” The redhead glanced down at Jak’s upside-down face in surprise.
“You’re going to be at the game tonight, aren’t you?”
He hadn’t been planning on it. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He was sure the Haven Warriors would win—how could they not, with a secret weapon like Jak at the helm?—and anyway he wouldn’t even be able to see Jak afterwards, not with the crowds of adoring fans that would be swamping the team. Daxter had been more than content with the personal game play of waiting for Jak to tell him all about it when he staggered back to their room that night. But now, looking down into Jak’s trusting face, he felt like he was poised to kick a puppy. A very big puppy with blue eyes and a cute little green goatee.
“Uh, sure. I’ll be there.”

Jak smiled. “Thanks. It helps to know somebody’s up in the stands cheering, you know?”
“Yeah, you bet. I got yer back. But don’t expect pompoms, alright? I don’t do pompoms.”
“I will be coming along as well,” Razer mentioned casually, grinding his cigarette butt in the moss. “I suppose I would be less than a friend if I didn’t.”
Phoenix laughed. “Careful, Razer. People will start to think you’ve given up tolerating me and decided to enjoy my company.”
Razer tilted his ears regally, inclined his head, and huffed.
They sat on the quad for a long while as late morning turned to afternoon, simply hanging out, enjoying the warm air and the breeze through the changing leaves. Jak shuffled up from his sprawl to lean his head and shoulders against Daxter’s side in a makeshift pillow. Dax patted his head and chuckled wryly. Big puppy, indeed.
It was almost a shock when Phoenix stood, stretched, and looked down at the two of them. “Well, Jak, shall we? We’re supposed to be at the stadium early this evening. If you want to eat, we’d better do it soon.”
Daxter glanced casually down at his watch. Then he did a double-take, eyes widening in shock. “Oh, crap, an’ I’ve gotta get ta class! Why didn’t ya tell me it was so late?!” He struggled out from under Jak’s shoulder. “See ya after the game, Jakkie-boy! Break a leg out there!” He bolted off, then thought better of it and paused to yell back over his shoulder, “But not literally!”
Against all odds, as he reenacted the morning’s race in a mad dash back to the dorm to collect his books, Dax found himself beginning to look forward to the evening. The hard part of his day was done. Now all he had to do was relax in the bleachers and let himself be wowed by his awesomely cool roommate. And wowing people, as he had discovered, was rather easy for Jak to do.
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To be continued…
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