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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.
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Daxter woke with a dry mouth, a fuzzy head, and a very warm right side. He blinked groggily at the ceiling, rolling his tongue around his mouth clumsily. Oooh, man. Dry mouth. Too hot. Muzzy brain. He had to be getting sick. There was even something wrong with his eyes, because through them the ceiling didn’t even look right. There were funny lines on it, and—
That was totally not the ceiling.
That was the slatted bottom of a bunk and he was seeing it, and that meant that he was under and not over, and that meant that the big warm lump he was half laying on was… Daxter glanced over a little too quickly, stomach clenching in protest. Sure enough, he spied a tousled tangle of emerald-golden hair and a long ear lax in sleep. Yeah, he should probably get out of the bed he had no memory of crashing in. He should also probably stop groping his roommate’s ass.
The redhead pulled his hand back like it had been resting on a hot plate and sat up quicker than his body approved of, for his stomach clenched again in warning and his dizzy head spun. So not even cool. He wondered if he got out now, would Jak remember that he had been there. Would Jak even care? They had all been drinking, after all. Surely the bad social consequences of being caught in bed with another guy would be given a little slack if there was liquor involved, right?
Daxter got unsteadily to his feet and wobbled away from the bunk. Water. Water water water for his horribly dry mouth. There was bottled water in the mini fridge. On the way over, his shuffling feet caught the corner of the blanket draped over Phoenix and Razer, pulling it down their sleeping forms. So they had decided to stay after all, huh. The argument over it was the last thing Dax remembered hearing before passing out. He fished a water out of the fridge and grinned as he twisted off the cap, looking back to the pair on the rug. Then he froze, the bottle barely touching his lips.
Phoenix had an arm around Razer’s waist. His hand was under Razer’s shirt, petting slowly and unconsciously over defined abs. Still soundly asleep, Razer was limp and relaxed, a small smile playing over his usually scowling lips.
Oh.
Oh, God.
This was absolutely perfect. This was priceless! Daxter held in a laugh by the barest thread and tiptoed around the rug until he reached his desk. He had to have a picture. This was going to be the new background on the lounge computer.
Cell phone in hand, photographic evidence of spooning secured, Daxter sat back in his desk chair and congratulated himself on his luck. Like catching a glimpse of an albino killer whale or something, the sight he had just seen was a precious, precious gift. From the floor beside him, Killer rattled his water bottle.
“You saw nothing, my small, slinky accomplice,” Dax murmured sagely with a languid wave of his hand.
Well. Now that was out of the way, it was time to get down the brass tacks. It was almost nine o’clock. If he pushed it, he could get across campus to the math department building and collect his graded exam from yesterday before the prof bugged out for the weekend. He hadn’t planned on picking it up early, but what the hell? He was already awake, and with barely a headache to show for his first brush with the world of cool kids and booze. No sense in waiting until Monday to find out how badly he had failed. The sooner he knew what abysmal grade he had earned, the sooner the unknown would quit hovering over his head and let him get back to important things like timeless tomfoolery and mass malarkey with his favorite fake jock.
Quickly and quietly as he could, Daxter dug up a fresh shirt, privately surprised at himself. He really had been drunk last night if he’d taken off his shirt in front of Phoenix and Razer and fallen asleep in nothing but holey jeans and a ratty tank top. He was only very recently getting comfortable with letting Jak get a casual glimpse of freckled shoulders, now that his esteemed roommate knew the story behind their mini map of scars. He still didn’t care for the vulnerable feeling.
Ready to go with the finding of his sneakers, Dax pulled back the curtain and peered out the window, over the lawn. A heavy mist still clung over the grass and sidewalks. “It’s so foggy…” he mused quietly. Yeah, fall was definitely coming. With a sigh, he turned away from the window.
A jacket hit him square in the face.
“Take it,” Jak mumbled, arm already back over his eyes as he rolled over in his bunk nest. “If it’s foggy, it’s wet and cold.”
Daxter peeled the fabric off his chest and glanced down. It was Jak’s letter jacket. “Uh… you sure?”
Jak waved a hand impatiently. His head was already under a pillow. Apparently, he was sure.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll bring it right back. I mean, I’ll be right back, too. Uh, just in case ya, y’know, might miss me or somethin’…” Dax slipped into the jacket awkwardly. It was at least two sizes too big. His hands were lost in the pockets as he stuffed in his phone and keys. He stepped carefully around the two sleeping on the rug and snuck out, closing the door quietly behind him.
Once out of the room, he stopped and stared. His hand was still on the doorknob. The long sleeve of Jak’s jacket bunched up around his wrist.
He was standing in the hallway wearing the quarterback’s letter jacket.
Jak wanted him to wear his letter jacket. Jak cared that he might get cold or damp or what the hell ever.
“Such. A. Dork!” Daxter laughed out loud. But he laughed it through a furious blush. In a moment of insanity he gathered the corners of the jacket collar together and nuzzled his face into the soft fabric. The smell of success, the smell of popularity, the smell of physical battles bravely fought, hard won, and justly rewarded… was the smell of Jak’s cologne.
He finally turned and all but bolted down the hallway, giggling like an idiot the whole way. Of all the fangirls on campus who would kill for the chance to wear this particular article of clothing, in some colossal twist of cosmic irony he was the one who got it—no begging, pleading, or swooning required. In your face, cheer squad.
The sudden warmth in his gut had nothing to do with the jacket wrapped around him like a friendly arm on a cool night.
- // - // - // - // -
After Daxter left, Jak was almost able to fall back to sleep. Almost being the keyword. Before he could properly drift off, though, a German bomb detonated on the floor next to his bunk.
The green-blonde jerked in shock as Razer cursed loudly and stumbled to his feet like a man waking up in a nest of fire ants. Jak looked up with a curse of his own on his lips, but Razer was already at the door—out the door—into the hall without so much as a good morning, door slamming behind him.
“Lunatic,” Jak muttered blearily.
On the floor Phoenix groaned and rolled over, limbs akimbo, normally neatly tied hair wild, then was still. The drama department could have used him as an entirely convincing prop corpse.
Jak sighed. He would take that as a massive hint that his Saturday morning sleep-in was officially over. He stretched hard, groaning deeply himself as his muscles protested. The morning after a game was usually a bit tender. A hot shower would do him good.
First thing was first, though. Jak threw on his clothes and began to collect empty cans and cups. The entire pile fit neatly in a small trash bag. He tucked the half-empty bottle of rum into the backpack that Razer would probably be coming back for.
“Rise and shine, Phoenix.” He nudged his teammate with his foot as he crossed the room. “Razer’s probably getting Torn to break into your room right now. Might want to start not looking hung over.”
“Uuuuugh,” Phoenix moaned eloquently into a pillow.
Leaving his friend to work at rejoining the world of the living, Jak cautiously made his way down the hall to the 3W utility room. Against the far wall were two chutes to the basement: trash and recycling. Jak dropped the bag into the recycling chute and closed it resolutely. Evidence: disposed of. Unless Torn detoured to the basement, dug through the garbage, and dusted the beer cans for fingerprints, no one could prove who in the dorm said cans had belonged to. The perfect crime. Jak was pleased with himself, all the more so when he ran into Torn in the hall a minute later.
“Morning, Torn,” he said pleasantly.
“Yes. Yes, it is morning. You’d think that morning—Saturday morning, no less—would be a good time to relax. Hah. I should have thrown away that hope the moment I signed on as an RA.”
“Rough wake-up?” Jak asked, trying to hide a grin.
“If by rough you mean I got fussed at in German for ten minutes while I let that chain-smoking background character from Grease into his room after he lost his own damn keys, you’d be right.” Torn snorted, tattooed ears laid back in annoyance as he beckoned Jak to follow him back to his private room. “Hey, come with me a second. I’ve got something for you. But, no. Razer’s just damn lucky I was already awake. A bunch of teenybopper Freshman girls decided to have a gossip session directly outside my door at quarter after seven.”
“Lucky you.”
“I almost sent them to your room,” Torn growled. “Since it was you they were talking about.”
Jak’s ears perked. “Oh, really?”
“Believe it, sweet cheeks. You’re the hot topic of the day. Word on the street is you so totally gave Brittany Mayes of head cheerleader fame the brush-off last night so you could, like, hit another party with that redheaded kid.”
“You’re way too good with the Valley Girl accent,” Jak grinned as they reached Torn’s carefully guarded lair. “You know, if Valley Girls smoked ten packs a day.”
“Shut up, smart ass. You realize ‘that redheaded kid’ almost ran me over a little bit ago when he ran out of here in your letter jacket? You two better cool it with the outward displays of bromance or the rumor mill will have the whole campus believing you’re fuck buddies inside of three days.”
Jak instinctively balked. “What?! No! My God, are you serious?”
“I am serious like a bad case of herpes, kid. I realize you came here from the middle of godforsaken nowhere and you have the social skills of an introverted third grader, but come on. It’s obvious.”
“Torn. I can’t believe I’m using this word, but—dude! What’s obvious here is that I enrolled in a college full of perverts. Can’t a guy have a best friend without people making it sound like I’m raping him behind the bleachers or something?” Jak shook his head in a mixture of amazement and frustration. “We’re both completely straight!”
“Uh-huh. A likely story.”
Funny, that, how Keira had suggested that Daxter be his likely story only the evening before. He had laughed about it last night, but now… The green-blonde twitched an ear dismissively. “You know what, whatever. As long as people don’t start talking and freak Dax out. He’d probably fly off the handle and run away and I’d never see him again.” And if he lost his first really close friend since meeting Keira in preschool over some morons who couldn’t keep their mouths shut he would have to fly off his own handle and crack heads.
“Protecting him too, now, huh?” Torn grinned smarmily.
“Damn straight,” Jak deadpanned. “He needs watched out for. Anybody messes with Dax they mess with me, and if they mess with me they’re messing with Phoenix, and if they mess with us they’re messing with the whole football team. Pretty stupid.”
“Conceded.”
“Alright. Now that we’ve established that, what was it you wanted to give me?”
“Besides my sage advice, you mean?” The dreadlocked RA grabbed a piece of paper out of the printer tray on his desk and handed it to Jak. “I thought you might want a copy of this in color. It’s all over the front page of the campus paper, but newsprint isn’t the greatest archival material.”
Jak accepted the offering. It was a glossy sheet of photo paper. “Wait, what?” It was the post-race picture from the day before. Phoenix looking brash, Razer looking bored, Daxter laughing from Jak’s shoulders. “This is in the paper?”
“On the front page, right below an action shot of you and Phoenix being stereotypical athletic stars.” Torn had taken on the contented air of a lion that had taken down a full grown ostrich. “I called in a favor from a friend of mine—head of senior editorial staff at the Haven Star. I cooked up some warm and fuzzy point about Homecoming Weekend being about fun and teamwork and all that happy bullshit, and he put in the shot.”
Jak stared at the photo. “I bet Ashelin’s pissed.”
“Of course she’s pissed! Why do you think I went out of my way to do it?”
“Wow. You’re kind of an ass.”
“You’re kind of a smart mouthed kid. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pay a little visit over to 3E and make sure my good buddy Ashelin has seen the paper.”
The quarterback very prudently took the opportunity to retreat back to his own room. Whatever Ashelin’s reaction, it wouldn’t be pretty.
When he got back, Phoenix was gone. So was the box of Gushers. The spare blanket had been neatly folded and stowed, and Daxter’s pillows were back on his bunk. All remaining evidence of their little party had been wiped away with an adept hand. Phoenix was obviously a pro. Now all Jak needed was a nice, hot shower to loosen up his muscles and make sure his hair didn’t smell like beer, and—
On his desk, his phone buzzed.
//Oh, Jaaak. I have something to shooow yooou//
The text was from Dax. Jak blinked at it for a moment before texting back. //Cool. Meet on patio? Next to fountain. Need coffee!!//
//There in 5//
So. A shower could wait twenty minutes. Jak swapped his phone for his keys and headed out. Hopefully there would still be some premium roast left down in the cafeteria.
- // - // - // - // -
At that particular moment, Daxter had a song in his heart and a piece of paper emblazoned with the school seal clutched tight in his hand.
It took excessive willpower to refrain from skipping down the sidewalk. Of course the victory dance he had executed in the hall outside the math department office would want to follow him out into such an excellent day. The cool, fresh air, the shining dew on the grass, the warm sun on his face—everything was gorgeous and beautiful and wonderful! And there up ahead, waiting to make an already spectacular day better, his roommate was waiting for him.
Jak was waiting by the fountain, just as he had suggested. Daxter could see him in profile, standing in a lazy slouch with a coffee in one hand. The redhead grinned and began to walk faster. He carefully slipped out of the borrowed jacket and draped it over his arm. It was shaping up to be a warm day, so Jak could take his nice jacket back now.
Oh, man, he just couldn’t wait to tell his friend the news!
Jak turned, oblivious to Daxter’s approach, and waved to someone across the sea of patio tables and chairs.
It proved to be too good an opportunity to pass up. Something playful, born of his good mood, seized hold in Daxter’s brain. He broke into a jog, then a slow run.
Dax realized his mistake too late. The very detail that had prompted his sneak attack was their literal downfall: Jak never saw him coming. Jak never saw him coming, and when the unexpected weight of an airborne redhead connected with him, thin arms and legs wrapping playfully around his shoulders and waist like a koala, he wasn’t ready for it. Unaware, un-braced, Jak let out a startled shout as he staggered and tripped sideways.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—ran through Daxter’s mind in an unbroken string. He clung tighter to Jak on pure reflex, biting off a panicked squawk of his own. The jacket slipped off his arm and landed in a heap. Jak’s coffee cup hit the concrete. The back of Jak’s calves hit the edge of the fountain. Then they both hit the water.
This time Daxter did scream, a high, shrill mess that ripped itself out of his throat as the frigid water enveloped his torso. Jak’s bellow of shock joined it for the split second before the quarterback’s head went under.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Daxter scrambled to get his hands and knees under him, narrowly missing full submersion himself.
The fountain was shallow, barely two feet deep. Jak popped back up in an instant, spitting out chlorinated water between gasping breaths as he flailed to get off his back. “Holy shit that’s cold!” He shook the matted hair out of his eyes and looked up. “…Dax?”
Daxter’s body felt disconnected from his brain. All he could do was sit and stare at Jak with huge eyes. He had just tackled his roommate into the fountain. Jak was wet and cold and staring at him. Everybody was staring at them. Jak was going to murder him for this. Slowly his ears went back and down, down, down.
Jak pushed himself into a sitting position and frowned, his own ears flitting back. “Dax—?”
“I’m sorry! Jesus, Jak, I’m soooo so so sorry, it was an accident, please don’t be mad, I’ll do anything I’ll clean our whole room you can have my money if I get this job I’ll suck your cock just please don’t be mad and please still be my friend—!”
Jak surged to his feet in one smooth motion, water pouring down his muscled body. He was suddenly much, much taller than the redhead still cowering at the concrete bottom of the fountain. For the first time in weeks Daxter felt a short, sharp spike of fear lance through his gut. He flinched as Jak leaned down and…
…grabbed him under the arms, scooping him to his feet.
“My God, you look so pathetic!” Jak laughed helplessly, shaking his head. His hands were huge and warm on thin, shaking shoulders. “That was too perfect, Dax.”
Daxter stared up at him stupidly, mouth hanging open. “Wha…?”
“That proves it. I am officially rooming with the craziest guy on campus. Even your accidents are hysterical. You couldn’t have pulled that off any better if you were actually trying to do it.”
“Y-you’re not… mad?” Completely baffled. That was all Daxter could be when Jak nudged him, a firm palm on his back prompting him to climb-step unsteadily out of the water. How could Jak not be furious? He glanced around, ears still lower than low, sneakers squelching with every stumbling step. Half the damn patio had seen that colossal fuck up!
Jak shook like a dog, sparkling cold water droplets sprinkling the sun-warmed rock at his feet. He seemed all but oblivious to the not-so-subtle laughter and attention they were garnering from every corner of the eating area. “Why would I be mad? You were just fooling around.”
“I was just bein’ a fucking idiot,” Daxter pouted, wrapping his arms around his own chest. Damn, it was freezing! Struck by another mini bolt of panic, he glanced around until he caught sight of Jak’s letter jacket. At least he had been lucky enough to drop it before taking them both for an early swim. There was no way he could afford to replace it if it got ruined—could such a thing even be replaced?—nor could he afford another cell phone if it had been in his jeans and not in the jacket pocket.
“You’re not an idiot. You were happy and you have something to show me.”
“Show…?” The redhead blinked. “Oh! Oh, yeah, I, I did. It’s… it’s no big deal.”
Jak quirked a perfect brow and gave him an exasperated look.
“Okay, okay! Gimme a damn second! Couldn’t let it wait until we get back an’ dry off, crazy fake jock.” Blustering up his last reserves of bravado, Daxter looked around anxiously for the paper he had so coveted just minutes before. Ah-ha. There it was, happily floating in the fountain. He gingerly fished it out by the corners, letting it drip before silently holding it up for Jak to see.
Jak’s eyes roamed it, then blinked. “Whoa! Eighty-six percent? That’s almost a B+! Way to go, Dax.” He grinned knowingly. “See? I told you you’d be fine.”
Praise. Cold. Wet. Praise. Huge fuck-up. Smiles. Praise. Does not compute. Daxter shook his head hard. “Yep, you sure did, big guy. So totally did. Now how ‘bout ya tell me ta collect my shit that just flew off the handle so we can go home an’ change clothes, huh?”
“Daxter.” Jak put on his best poker face. “Collect your shit that just flew off the handle so we can go home and change clothes.”
And they did. Daxter brushed Jak’s jacket off carefully as they squished their drippy way back inside the building. “Here’s this back. Sorry I dropped it.”
Jak accepted it, only to shake it out and flip it firmly around his roommate’s shoulders. “Yeah, no problem. I let you take it so you wouldn’t be cold. Sorry, Dax. The Universe has decreed that you are to be cold this morning. I tried my best, but Fate shut me down.” He put an exaggerated arm around the redhead, shaking his head in mock sadness.
It was enough to coax out the smallest of chuckles. “I think you better reevaluate who got stuck with the crazy roommate, here. That was a bona fide Dax-man line, big guy. I think—and this is very scary, you might wanna find yer security blanket fer this one—I think I might be rubbin’ off on you.”
“Heaven forbid.” And Jak laughed.
- - - - -
One longest, coldest walk back to their room ever, Daxter was shivering to beat the maracas in the band. As soon as they hit the door he and Jak went straight to their respective wardrobes.
“What, one bath this mornin’ wasn’t enough?” the redhead quipped through chattering teeth when he saw Jak grab a towel alongside his dry clothes.
Jak snorted. “I think I’ll go with the hot option this time. The one with the soap.” He peeled off his soaking shirt and dropped it in the laundry basket with a wet plop. “And then I guess I’ll do laundry.”
Daxter looked quickly away, flushing slightly, as Jak finished stripping. He still wasn’t used to that. But he couldn’t deny that a hot shower right now would feel fantastic. Just maybe… After a moment’s deliberation he pulled down another towel.
Jak tied his own towel and gave him a curious look.
“What? I’m gonna come shower with ya.” Daxter turned bright red the second the words escaped his mouth. “I mean, uh, I’m gonna walk down there with ya and, uh, also take a shower—y’know, in a totally separate space from you.” Holy hell, could he make this any more awkward? Jak was biting his lip not to laugh. “Ah, shut up! You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jak grinned that stupid jock grin of his that strangely didn’t piss Daxter off like it did when other jocks wore it. “And I’m glad you’re finally getting cool with the showers.”
“Yeah, well. I figure it’d be dumb ta worry much with a big lug like you around as my own personal bouncer.”
“Oh? Jeez, Dax, if that’s all I am to you, I’m thoroughly hurt and emotionally scarred.”
“I’m just sure you are. You’ll be down at the counseling center with yer teddy bear cryin’ on the therapy couch fer the rest’a the year.”
“I am going to the showers now,” Jak said loudly, waving his hand at Daxter dismissively. “Goodbye.”
“No, no, wait fer me. I’m comin’.” Grabbing his basket of shower accessories, Daxter pattered along behind his friend. He was definitely nervous to be showering in the middle of the morning for the first time since moving into the dorms, but he hadn’t been lying. He did feel safer with Jak.
“Okay, so. Shower, then laundry, then food. Hey, we can go get some pizza and you can turn in your application while we’re down there.”
“Sounds like a plan, big guy.”
“Great. I think it’ll be really cool if you get a job at Pizza Haven.”
“So we can hang out with Ximon without havin’ ta order somethin’?”
“No, so we’ll get free pizza. I’m starving.”
“Jaaak!”
- // - // - // - // -
To be continued.
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