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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Black, huh?” Daxter regarded his new Pizza Haven uniform shirt with a critical eye as they walked back toward the campus proper. “Not bad. Could’a been Day-Glo yellow or somethin’ really foul like that.”
Jak nodded very seriously. “Totally. Black is definitely cool. Always in style, covers pizza sauce and bloodstains.”
The redhead smirked, registered the fact that his front teeth had to be showing, and made the decision not to care. It was Good Mood Time now. “So I’m not the only one who got the feelin’ that babe was gonna murder Ximon three seconds before we walked in the door?”
“Pizza slicer to the neck seems like a fair punishment for stopping at the bong store on the way back from a seven minute delivery and then blaming your GPS for getting you lost.”
“Yeah. Remind me not ta piss the boss lady off when she’s already two pepperonis from a nervous breakdown.”
The application process had gone without a hitch—mostly it consisted of Taryn snatching the paper from him and throwing the shirt at his head. Turns out she had remembered them after all. He was to report to the restaurant ASAP after class on Monday to hash out schedules and fill out what little paperwork was to be had.
“Is gettin’ a job always that easy? I always thought it’d be kinda… less spastic. Maybe have a little interview, brag on yerself a little bit, not have ta duck flyin’ breadsticks.”
“I’ve never had a real job,” Jak said honestly, “just odd stuff like chasing cows for the farmer down the road and helping out the crazy bird lady next door while I was in high school, but I can safely say you just had a very unique hiring experience.”
“Well, Jakkie-boy, that’s what happens when yer as awesome as me.” Daxter snickered as his friend rolled his eyes. “So, what do we wanna do now? We got one weekend ta have as much fun as humanly possible before my shiny new job starts eatin’ all the time we would’a spent bein’ morons together after you get out’a practice.”
“Aww, don’t say it like that. We’ll find time to hang out. We’ll make time.” Jak looked studiously at the cracks in the sidewalk as they approached the dorm. Suddenly his head and ears shot up. “Hey, I know! Let’s play catch!”
Daxter quirked a red brow. “Come again?”

“Let’s play catch, Dax! It’s a great day. This weather won’t last much longer, you know?” The quarterback nudged the redhead in his excitement. “I doubt Phoenix feels well enough to play through that hangover, but me and you can. Come on, let’s go upstairs. You drop off your shirt, I’ll grab my ball, and we’ll—”
Daxter instinctively balked. “Whoa there, big fella, yer inner jock is showin’. I’ve never caught a football in my life an’ you wanna be seen playin’ catch with me? In public? Where people could, like… look?”
“Sure, why not? Everybody has a first time.”
“I can’t catch diddly, Jak! Remember that damn cup on the patio? Bad juju, Jak, very bad!”
“Come on, Dax, it won’t be that bad.” Jak chuckled as the automatic doors swished open and ushered them into the dorm lobby. “The worst you could do is get better at catching. Or maybe you want to run around crashing into people for the rest of your life, I don’t know.”
“Hey!” Daxter huffed. “Bad location is all that was. I’m not a total klutz.”
“Okay then, we’ll go out back by the woods. Nobody to run into. Probably not a lot of people to see you. I’ll teach you. It’ll be fun.”
The redhead bit his lip and wavered. He could think of half a dozen more fun things to do right off the top of his head and twice as many reasons why they should leave contact sports off the list. But damned if Jak wasn’t giving him that hopeful puppy face. “… yer gonna be gentle when ya toss that ball at my head, right? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, I seriously can’t afford a trip ta the ER right now.”
“I promise I will only throw as hard as you want me to. Don’t worry, Dax, this’ll be fun.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s do this thing, then.” Though privately Daxter still had his completely legitimate doubts, Jak’s grin made what was sure to be an upcoming embarrassment very close to worth it.
- // - // - // - // -
Despite appearances, Jak could be exceptionally gentle when he wanted to be. And he wanted to be gentle when he was throwing footballs at someone who was not only not on the football team, but was smaller than him. The green-blonde had played a casual game of catch with Keira many times and never left so much as a bruise on her delicate female skin—that was what her own wrenches and hammers were for.
“You’re doing great, Dax! Now back up a little.”
“Yeah, okay,” and it was obvious that Daxter was getting his confidence up after just a few minutes.
Jak grinned, took careful aim, and threw with roughly a quarter of his on-the-field force. He knew how to put a ball where he wanted it to go, and he wanted it to go straight into Daxter’s arms with a minimum of effort on the redhead’s part.
Daxter caught it easily.
“Perfect!” Jak praised as the ball was tossed back. “Now try backing up a few steps every time I throw.” A good way to get a little more distance between them without getting too far for an untrained arm to bridge the gap. This wasn’t about showing his friend up.
The next few throws back and forth went flawlessly. Daxter backed up, further and further, Jak adjusting his trajectory and force accordingly. Jak began to throw the ball a bit to the side, a bit overhead, letting Daxter put some thought into grabbing it. All was well until Jak miscalculated by bare inches how high his roommate could reach.
“Hey!” The redhead went up on his toes, grasping futilely for the ball as it sailed past over his head. With one bounce on the grass behind him, it flipped back into the air and disappeared down the hill at the edge of the open lawn.
Jak facepalmed. “Damn it, sorry! I’ll get it.”
“No, it’s cool, I got it.” Dax looked back to wave him off, already jogging toward the edge of the small ravine. “Just wai—aah!”
“Look where you’re going!” Jak yelled, but it was already much too late.
Daxter tripped, flailed forward with a yelp, and vanished from sight.
“Oh, shit.” The quarterback ran after him, laughing despite himself.
Dax wouldn’t be hurt; he could count on that at least. The hill down to the creek that lay at the bottom of the little gully wasn’t so steep that he would plummet rather than tumble, and it was cushioned with the same deep green grass that covered the dorm lawn. Tall trees overshadowed the creek bed, allowed to grow down the hill to meet the edge of the wild wooded area beyond while the level expanse of the back lawn above was kept open and clear.
Jak hit the edge of the downgrade and went into a controlled slide. In a moment he reached the bottom, several yards below the lawn, and skidded to a stop next to where his dazed roommate sprawled out on the grass. “Hey, are you okay?”
Slowly Daxter sat up. He shook his head, grass clippings and dry leaves fluttering from his red hair. His hoodie was covered in more of the same. The football lay innocently at his side. “Whoa…”
There was silence for a moment as Jak perched on his knees next to his dizzy friend, just birdsong and the dim hum of distant traffic filtering down through the sun and dappled shade of the gully. As soon as it became clear that Daxter wasn’t hurt, though, Jak began to laugh again.
“What’s so damn funny?” Daxter demanded, but a wry smile was tugging the corner of his mouth all the same.
“Y-you! You are the biggest klutz I have ever seen!” Jak howled, holding his ribs as he laughed helplessly.
“Shut up, asshole!” Daxter’s face had turned cherry red. “I am not!”
“Says the—the guy who tripped me into the fountain this morning—!” Jak was tearing up. It was too good.
“Aaaugh, I just stepped in a mole hole, jerkoff! Stop laughin’ at me! Yer the big barbarian who threw the damn ball too hard!”
Jak wanted to stop laughing. He really did. But he absolutely couldn’t. So he just knelt there clutching his stomach like an idiot and did nothing to defend himself when Daxter tackled him to the moss with a war cry.
The tussle was rather one-sided. Jak didn’t fight back. Daxter scrambled up, sitting on the green-blonde’s stomach as he thumped Jak’s chiseled chest lightly in a mockery of punches. By that time he was laughing, too.
“Hey, stop!” Jak batted weakly at a sudden rain of dry leaves as his friend grabbed a handful from the ground underneath them and turned them into fluttery projectiles.
“It’s all ya deserve! Take it like a man!”
Leaves in his hair, grass stains on his pants, Jak gave up and went completely limp.
Dax raised his arms and gave a triumphant whoop of victory. “Oh, yeah, the Dax-man wins! Let that be a lesson, young Grasshopper.”
Staring up from the ground, Jak let the last of his chuckles trail off as he watched the redhead against a backdrop of green and yellow leaves. He liked it when Daxter let go of his snark and degenerated into a giggly mess. It wasn’t something that happened often, though it happened much more frequently now than it had at the start of the semester. Dax flipped his ears, crossed his arms over his chest, and smirked smugly, something he never would have been brave enough to do when they first met. It was achingly sweet. Something simultaneously tightened and loosened in Jak’s belly.
God, Daxter was cute.
Daxter was cute, and straddling Jak’s hips.
With the subtlety of a speeding freight train a small informational tidbit occurred to Jak: he hadn’t been laid in almost two months, and his dick wasn’t ignoring how nice the pressure of a warm body in his lap felt. Even if that warm, pleasantly weighted body was his roommate’s.
Jak sat up so fast he dumped Daxter off his lap.
“Hey!” Dax squawked, clearly not expecting the move. He pouted up at the green-blonde from where he had sprawled. “No fair pullin’ a move like that, I wasn’t ready! Oh, oww… damn it, I think I landed on a stick. My ass is gonna be so bruised tomorrow…”
“Oh, I’m sorry—should I kiss it for you?” Jak shot back with a grin before he could consider the response.
“As a matter of fact, I think ya should! I always wanted ta have the damn quarterback kissin’ my skinny, freckled—Jak, no, wait, I didn’t mean it, Jak!”
Too late. With a maniacal laugh Jak pounced, landing mostly on top of his hapless prey with another explosion of leaves. “No way! That comment means I have to tickle the shit out of you to preserve my honor, you little punk!”
So the tickling commenced, right alongside so much laughing and screaming that Jak was half sure the subsonic frequencies were setting off car alarms in the parking garage up by the dorm. For all his delight in making Daxter squeal and convulse, though, Jak never let himself forget that he had to—absolutely had to—be gentle. If the redhead quit enjoying their play fight and Jak somehow missed an honest struggle to get away, God only knew what kind of new trauma he might accidentally inflict on his already-fragile friend.
Daxter didn’t show any signs of being traumatized, however, much to Jak’s relief. Sure he flopped and flailed, turned lobster red and laughed until he cried, but the ever-lighter smacks at Jak’s invading hands were clearly not meant to actually ward him away.
“When’s the last time you goofed around like this?” Jak finally asked bemusedly as he let his friend breathe. Air was generally an important part of life.
“I d-dunno!” Daxter laughed weakly, gasping for breath. “N-never!”
Could that really be true? Jak thought in surprise as he waited for the smaller boy to recover somewhat before resuming the offensive. Could Daxter really have never played this way with anyone before? It was such a simple game, a little tussle and tiny touches that… really did involve having more trust in the person pinning you to the ground than Jak had ever had reason to contemplate before.
A sudden warm tightness in his chest. An inaudibly protective growl in his head. The inexplicable urge to grab the scrawny redhead up out of the dirt and hug him until it was proved beyond a doubt that everything was and would be alright. Jak went still, simply watching Daxter as he leaned over him. The glint of prominent teeth caught his attention, and his eyes were drawn inexorably to laughter-flushed lips.
After a moment of silence Daxter seemed to notice the staring. His eyes darted up to Jak’s face curiously. “What’s up?”
For the first time in a long while, Jak was entirely out of words. “Uh… I…” Come on, think, think, idiot fake jock, THINK—!
Then a small rustling in the leaves by Daxter’s head took all the thinking in the world and balled it up into one cubit of instinct.
“Spider! Jesus Christ, huge spider!!” Jak was off the ground, on his feet, across the creek, and halfway up the opposite bank before he could get enough of a grip on himself to stop the headlong rush to places other than where the eight-legged terror was.
Daxter sat up with a flurry of leaves and grass clippings. “Jak?”
“Dax, get up! Oh, God, move, it’s right next to you!”
“What is?!”
“The spider, you idiot!” Jak shuddered and turned away, brushing frantically at his arms and chest. Every clinging piece of mulch seemed to be sprouting too many limbs and myriad eyes. Daxter couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned when the behemoth thing crawled up his sleeve and—
“Oh, man, cool! This guy’s gotta be a granddaddy or somethin’. Check him out, Jak.”
The green-blonde could do nothing but stare in horror as his roommate crouched on the opposite side of the creek, poking at the monster with his goddamn bare fingers holy fucking shit—!
Jak covered his eyes with an impressively muscled forearm and screamed.
- // - // - // - // -
“So, lemme get this straight. You can fight psychos, tackle guys twice yer size, an’ watch every kind’a horror movie there is without blinkin’. But ya can’t handle spiders?”
“Shut up. I can’t explain it, okay?” Jak grumped as they trailed down the hall toward their room. His ears were back, his hands jammed far into the pockets of pants muddy from the knees down thanks to his panicked sprint through the creek. “Everybody has something they hate and spiders are my thing.”
Daxter glanced up from fumbling with his keys. “Even little ones?”
“All of them. Each and every one of the crawly little bastards. Spiders are the failed abortions of nature and I wish they would all burn in agony.”
Daxter laughed loudly, then had to dart through the door to avoid the annoyed swat Jak aimed his way. “Hey, I wasn’t laughin’ at you, big guy! I think it’s kinda cute, actually. Y’know, in a very manly an’ totally not demeaning way.”
Jak was clearly unconvinced as he stripped out of wet shoes and socks for the second time that day, but the redhead stood by his claim. It was cute that big, strong, perfect Jak’s Achilles heel was something so small and insignificant. Daxter was something of a coward by nature and even he didn’t mind spiders. Spiders could be cool. They could be long-speedy or chunky-furry or round-webby. Some of them came in neat colors. They ate flies and other annoying bugs, and they never really bothered anyone on purpose, like those stupid hornets and bumblebees that went around looking for a fight. Yeah, spiders were chill.
Oddly, though, Dax felt no need to lord the information over Jak they way he surely would have with, say, Torn or Razer. He didn’t want to rush out and buy a pet tarantula. He didn’t want to put plastic spiders in the quarterback’s desk drawers. Having at long last found a crack in Jak’s impenetrable Armor of Perfection, all he wanted to do now was… watch the crack and make sure nothing unwelcome crawled through it.
“No sweat, pal. I don’t mind spiders. If ya see any around here just say the word—the Dax-man is yer own personal exterminatin’ service. Free of charge.”
Jak glanced up from tossing wet socks at the laundry basket they shared, an appraising look on his face. “Seriously? You’re not just saying that so you can put rubber spiders in my backpack later, right?”
Damn, was Jak a mind reader or something?! “Sheesh. Thanks fer the vote of confidence in me, Jak. Buddy. Pal.”
The green-blonde had the decency to flush. “Sorry. Keira really liked to tease me about the spider thing.”
“Yeah, well, by the sound of it you two were mutant ectoplasmic soul twins separated at pre-birth who gravitated back ta each other by a decree of Fate an’ pursued a twisted-yet-sacred incestuous sibling relationship.”
Jak stared at him in confused horror.
“Long story short, if anybody’s earned the right ta tease ya, it’s her.” Daxter grinned as Jak shrugged off his colorful metaphor and flopped down on the bottom bunk.
“Whatever. I don’t care if you tease me a little. But I draw the line at rubber spiders. Real spiders and I toss you out the window first and mourn our friendship later.”
“Duly noted, Jakkie-boy. Where ya want me ta drop yer ball?”
“Just put it on my desk. I’ll get it later.”
Daxter checked the ball under his arm one last time to make sure all the mud was gone. When it had passed muster, he tucked it against the base of Jak’s desk lamp. As he did so, something caught his eye. “Hey, where’d you get this picture of us?”
“Oh, that?” Jak waved airily from his sprawl. “Torn printed it off. He’s still gloating about beating Ashelin. Apparently we were also in the paper this morning. I think he’s begging to get kicked in the balls, but that’s just me.”
“We were in the paper?! Wow…” Dax looked at the picture in awe. In his hands was actual, concrete proof that he had helped the quarterback win the relay race, and the whole campus had seen it! He relived it all again for the hundredth time since the day before—the thrill of victory, the cheers of the watching crowds, the look of unbridled happiness and pride on Jak’s face before he’d hoisted the redhead onto his back for the picture. Having the visual aid just made the obligatory curl of warmth through his body all the stronger. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, hey, Jak?”
“Hmm?”
“I was just thinkin’. Since yer bulletin board’s kinda full right now, maybe I could, y’know… hang this up on mine?”
“Oh, sure. Go for it. I was gonna hang it up on the door, but Ashelin would probably rip it down next time she comes over here to terrorize Torn.”
The green-blonde sounded like he was on the verge of a nap. Dax really couldn’t blame him. The guy had been running himself ragged for a week, stayed up late, and been woken up too early. He deserved some down time. The thought was accompanied by a surge of something both affectionate and oddly protective, and Daxter bit his lip a bit uneasily as he tacked the picture up beside his own desk.
No, Daxxie. Forget it. Yer not gonna start gettin’ all sappy over this guy. Nuh-uh. No way. We so do not hero worship football players. Not even ones as totally awesome an’ incredible as Jak. Even if he is our friend, even if he’s a freakishly nice guy, he’s still a football player. There will be no worshiping of any kind between us an’ that ilk, got it?
Bolstered by his own pep talk, Daxter finished affixing the photo to his corkboard and turned back, ready to poke Jak out of his bunk cave to find more entertainment.
Jak had his eyes closed, head pillowed on his arm. Curled up in his unmade bunk with muddy pant cuffs and bare feet, he looked nothing like a quarterback and all like a simple country boy taking a break from running the hills and chasing cows. Or whatever the hell country kids did.
Damn it. I guess I can let him sleep fer an hour. Or two. With a sigh, Daxter dropped down into his desk chair and pulled out his favorite notebook. Okay, so—this one time, out in the country, there were totally these guys named Jak Sawyer an’ Dax Finn…
- // - // - // - // -
“I can’t believe this. I just can’t. It’s not something I can accept. It is Saturday night, Jak. Saturday. We could be crashin’ parties on frat row. We could be at the movies. Hell, we could’a gone bowling! An’ where are we instead? Doin’ homework. Freakin’ homework! You are the fakest of the fake jocks, Jak. The very fakest.”
Jak grabbed the nearest nonlethal projectile at hand—an eraser—and threw it with tender, loving precision at his roommate’s head.
“Oww, hey!”
“If you don’t quit being a brat in two seconds I’ll show you how jock I can be.”
“Oh, yeah?” Daxter challenged.
“Do the words ‘cheerleader skirt’ and ‘team Facebook profile’ mean anything to you?”
The redhead grinned nervously and flicked his ears back. “Shutting up.”

“That’s what I thought.”
It absolutely had not been Jak’s fault that he had fallen asleep and stayed that way until nearly dinnertime. Daxter could have woken him up at any point and had not. Therefore it was clearly Daxter’s fault that it was now evening and time for Jak to catch up on the homework he had been shirking for most of Homecoming Week.
Sure, he could have blown the work off… if not for two small facts. One, Jak took pride in doing things right. He firmly believed that it was possible to be a good athlete and a good student at the same time. He wouldn’t turn into a blockhead who only passed classes because the coach plea bargained with their professors. And two, Sig was not the kind of coach who would allow his players to become blockheads who couldn’t make C’s or better in their classes under their own power. If his grades dropped, he would get the boot, plain and simple.
“Can I at least turn on the radio, or somethin’?” Daxter whined.
“If sitting still in a quiet room might actually kill you dead, then yes. I don’t mind the radio.”
“You’d better not, not when yer chattin’ up yer mechanic girl with one hand and doin’ yer chemistry assignment with the other.”

Jak smirked. “Just because I can do stoichiometry and text at the same time is no reason to be jealous.”
“Me? Jealous? As if.” Daxter stuck his tongue out resolutely in a way that would have surely made him the awe of any self-respecting second grade classroom and turned on the radio.
Luckily, before Jak could become too sad at the temporary shunning, his phone buzzed happily.
//So did u relax today Mr. Homecoming Hero??//
Jak smiled as he returned the text. //Oh yeah. Dax and me went swimming in the fountain and had a wrestling match by the creek. Was fun//
//Oh wow. Sounds totally NOT relaxing :p//
//Was so. I was laying down both times//
“What’s so funny?” Daxter asked, glancing through the posts of the bunk bed quizzically when Jak chuckled at his own joke. The entire reason they had put their desks in opposite corners with the beds between them was so they wouldn’t completely distract each other when they were supposed to be concentrating on their studies, but the redhead seemed to forget it on a nightly basis.
“Don’t you have Spanish to work on?” Jak teased as his phone clattered a counterpoint against the cheap plywood desk.
Daxter pointedly turned up the radio.
//So u and fake bf had a totally romantic date huh?// text-Keira asked impudently.
If she wanted to keep playing that game, Jak could roll with it. //Very romantic and you would be jealous!!//
//Ur getting awful close to ths kid u met like three weeks ago Jakjak :p lol//
The small, glowing screen gave Jak pause. Keira had a point there—even if he had actually known his roommate for closer to a month, it was still a little strange for Jak to have become such good friends with him so fast. Other than Keira, he had never become truly good friends with any of their classmates through their compulsory education years. Maybe it was simply the fact that he and Daxter were roommates; they spent enough time together, like it or not, that Jak had come to accept the other guy.
The green-blonde glanced over. Daxter was performing an impressive drum solo on his open Spanish book with a ruler and a ballpoint pen, mouthing the words of the song as he did so, unaware that Jak was watching. His freckled ears were perked in concentration, eyes shut as he tried to keep the rhythm.
No. No, that wasn’t the reason. Jak knew himself better than that. He wouldn’t have attached himself to just anyone, forced cohabitation or not. The pull Dax had on him went deeper than that.
Suddenly the cap flew off the pen, clacked against the painted cinderblocks of the wall, and was lost on the floor. Daxter pouted at the shadow under his desk before dropping out his chair and onto his knees for a treasure hunt.
Jak smiled as he typed and sent the next text. //You’ll have to meet him Keira. Just something about him.// He glanced back over at Daxter—or what was visible of Daxter as he dug around underneath his desk. Jak’s smile twitched wider. And he has a cute ass, too.
It took a moment for the enormity of the stray thought to hit him. His phone was down and his pencil was back up, eyes trained studiously on the numbers in front of him, when he paused.
Whoooooah. Back up, Jak.
Did I really just check out his butt…?
Daxter pulled himself off the floor, errant pen cap held aloft in triumph. “A-ha! Got the little bastard. Still didn’t find my socks, though. Not that I think they’d be under there, but better safe than sorry.” He grinned up at Jak, then cocked his head curiously. “You okay, big guy? Yer lookin’ kinda lost over there. Chemistry finally stump ya?”
“Uh… no. No, it’s cool. Just… had a thought. No big deal.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I’ll just leave ya alone so you can do yer totally boring fake jock thing, then—wait, hang on, did that guy just say there’s a chance of thunderstorms tonight?”
Jak held his chem book like a shield even as Daxter pounced on the radio in a vain attempt to hear a weather bulletin already past. “I, uh, I think so. Wasn’t really listening…”
While the redhead occupied himself with camping the radio waves, presumably in hopes that the announcer would repeat the weekly forecast, Jak occupied himself with pretending to do his assignment and looking covertly at his roommate out of the corner of his eye.
Okay. So he had just checked out Daxter’s ass. Jak wasn’t in the habit of lying, even to himself. He knew perfectly well what had just crossed his mind, so why deny it? But… what the hell had prompted a thought like that in the first place? He certainly wasn’t in the habit of checking out the asses of his guy friends—there were limitless opportunities for that in the locker room and his eyes had never wandered. Why Daxter’s?
He doesn’t look like a girl, even if he’s twiggy. He’s wearing jeans. Jeans aren’t revealing or anything. It’s not like he was being suggestive. And even if he was, he’s a guy. Why would I notice it? That’s so weird…
“Well, I’m turnin’ in.”
Jak jumped guiltily as Daxter abruptly stood. “Uh, okay.” Then he glanced at the clock. “Wait, already? It’s barely after nine. You were so gung-ho to do something fun tonight.”
“Yeah, I give. No sense comin’ between King of the Fake Jocks an’ his studies. I’m a classy guy, I know how ta take rejection. If ya need me I’ll be wrapped up like a sushi roll in my bunk listenin’ to some tunes.”
“Goodnight, then. I’ll turn my light down.”
“Night, big guy. Don’t work too hard—yer blonde brain might fry.”
Jak huffed, but the cocky jab didn’t deter him from spying over the top of his book as the redhead climbed to the top bunk. Yep. Ass was still cute. Tight and grab-able. Damn it. He had hoped that an experimental second look would prove that his neurons had just had a temporary misfire the first time. No such luck.
Okay. Fine. My best guy friend and roommate has a great butt. So what. No big deal. I can accept that. I didn’t say anything about it. I didn’t smack it. No harm in looking if that’s all it is, right? It’s not like I’m going to start staring at guys in general just because I think one butt is nice.
Yes. There were no problems here. Nothing would change between him and Daxter. The other guy was just cute, that was all. Cute enough that if he had been a girl, Jak totally would have kissed him that afternoon by the creek—the quarterback tackled that thought to the turf of his brain like the outcome of the Super Bowl depended on not letting it through.
The stoichiometry numbers that had been so clear and logical twenty minutes ago were swimming. Great. Jak dropped his face into his folded arms with a muted groan. Daxter was in bed, he himself wasn’t tired in the slightest thanks to his long afternoon nap, and his brain was buzzing like a pissed off bee.
Jak grabbed his phone. //Hey Keira//
//Yeah?//
//Could you tell me to relax again??//
- // - // - // - // -
To be continued.
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- 6
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