AN: Yeah, more squishy Jak/Dax stuff. Le sigh. Although really, you know you love it.

For your info: This little snippet is based on the premise of "What if Daxter hadn't been an ottsel when they got thrown out of Haven and found their way to Spargus?" Of course, me being me… some romance found its way in there. Not much. But some.

Characters: All belong to Naughty Dog.

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Daxter was picky about two things. Where he slept, and what he ate. That was why they had been inside their new "home" less than half an hour and he was already playing persnickety housekeeper. The nervous energy rolled off him in waves.

Up past his wrists in soapy dishwater, the redhead scrubbed away with every ounce of elbow grease he could muster. Even though he had been assured that he needn't bother, the thick coating of dust on the dishes said differently. Plus, Sig hadn't even been able to say when exactly it was that the previous occupant of the run down little place had vacated the premises. How could they be sure the guy—whoever he was—had washed his plates right?

"I put all the sheets and blankets in the washer."

No sooner had Jak's voice registered than a heinous banging and clanging began in the small closet next to the bathroom. The washing machine was obviously on its last legs. Daxter stared suspiciously at the wall, half fearing the ancient contraption would vibrate itself right through the cracking plaster.

"Well, that thing's gonna explode. Fantastic. Did ya put the pillowcases in too?"

The green-blonde nodded. "Yeah. There was only one."

"There enough soap?"

"Just barely."

"Great. We can get more later, I guess. When we have more clothes to wash." Daxter sighed heavily, reminded once again of how filthy he was. Not that it was his fault, of course. Being thrown out into the unforgiving desert with nothing but the clothes on your back tended to do that to you. Both he and Jak had been wearing the same grimy, sweaty outfits for days.

"Sig gave me a little money. We'll get something else to wear in the morning. For now I'm just glad we've got this place." Sounding completely unbothered with the situation, totally overlooking the fact that mere hours before they had been the center of attention at Spargus' very violent main attraction, Jak turned away. "I'll check out the bathroom. There might still be something we can use."

Dax shook his head, turning back to the sink. Jak could be thankful for the lopsided little building they were currently camping in all he wanted. What Daxter was thankful for was Sig.

Sig, their buddy. The guy who looked out for them, who made sure they had food and water for the night, who went out of his way to find them a temporary base in a new and dangerous city. Who hadn't really wanted to fight Jak, either.

Despite himself Daxter's hands began to shake. He gripped a dripping plate tightly, trying to force the all-too recent memories to the back of his brain. He hadn't freaked out then and he wouldn't freak out now, dammit! Only… He still didn't know which was worse. Being thrown into the Arena without Jak, or seeing Jak put in without him.

Probably the former. And not strictly because the redhead was still a coward at heart, either. Deep down inside he knew that Jak would be alright fighting solo—the big guy had never had trouble in that department before. Jak having to watch Daxter fight alone, though, in his first one-on-one confrontation, unable to help him if they had a prayer of being accepted in this savage place, was something entirely different.

If anything happens to me… what happens to Jak?

Just that, that one idea had been what kept him calm enough to strategize. If he were hurt, or killed, or even thrown out of Spargus for losing in the Arena, Jak would be all alone. Alone in an unfair world where the people you work your ass off trying to serve and protect can banish you from their city, your home, without a second thought. Where your so-called girlfriend doesn't even try to speak up in your defense.

Jak needed him. Someone to watch his back and tell stupid jokes and stick by his side like a cocklebur to a cotton sock. So he ducked, dodged, scampered like mad, fired purposely crazy shots as sheer distracters until under scanty cover of flying dust and random blasts he could get up close to his opponent. The funny part was that he didn't even know if he had any ammo left by the time he confidently threatened the guy with a headshot if he didn't back down.

That's right, buddy, just concentrate on the gun an' ignore the little fact that I'm about to pass out. Survival of the slickest.

He had calmly walked out the victor. He had coolly watched Jak get matched up against a bear like Sig and flatly refuse to fight a friend, to nearly catastrophic results. He had casually stood next to Jak with his possibly useless gun ever at the ready until it was set in stone that they could stay in town despite the obvious displeasure of the Big Man in Charge and the glares of Arena attendees who had been actively counting on seeing someone's head get blasted off that night. His knees hadn't started knocking until they were following Sig to their current hidey hole.

Slightly dazed, Daxter eyed his new Arena-issued gun where it lay innocently on the dingy countertop next to the drying rack half filled with clean plates and cups. Letting the washcloth slowly drift to the bottom of the basin, the redhead leaned his full weight against the edge of the sink to spare his suddenly weak legs.

I did it. I did it all by myself and I didn't have to kill anybody. I'm not a liability. I am NOT a liability!

Yeah, he could take care of himself. But damn if he still didn't miss riding on a strong shoulder sometimes, trusting with every ounce of his small orange being that his best friend would take care of them both.

"Well, the good news is that we can take a shower." Think of the devil and in he walks. Jak snorted good-naturedly. "That is if there's any hot water left. I told you we didn't have to mess with washing anything but ourselves tonight."

"Yeah, well. S'just somethin' ta do I guess."

Jak picked up on his mood immediately, an oft-seen frown flitting into place. "Daxter? Are you alright?"

Crap. He hadn't meant to let his voice waver. Quickly he glanced back over his shoulder at Jak, an incredibly fake grin plastered in place. "Yeah, sure, I'm just peachy. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you aren't. Tell me, Dax. What's wrong?"

Daxter sighed. Jak never did let him get away with lying when he thought it was important. Rather than start an argument that could and would go on until the bigger man ferreted out what was really the matter, he opted to cut to the chase and just tell his friend the truth.

"Really, Jak, I'm cool. Cool as a cucumber, that's me. Just… a little nervy still, is all. Who wouldn't be after playin' bullet tag fer yer room an' board?" He smiled then, a small but truly heartfelt smirk. "Present company excepted, of course. Not everybody on this rock is as gung-ho as you, big guy."

Jak looked confused for half a beat. Then he looked downright foolish. "Ah… damn it, Dax. I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner—you just looked so calm and collected earlier I assumed it hadn't bothered you too much. Are you okay?"

"This from the guy who nearly went ballistic when they first pulled us apart." Unable to resist, he huffed and flicked the end of the damp drying towel at the green-blonde.

Jak dodged the towel snap easily, swatting at the end of the rag. "Hey, give me a break. I was scared for you when they put you in alone, okay?" Understatement of the year. "I almost panicked and darked out, even. But then you were so on top of it that I thought… and then I forgot all about it…" He shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. "You're too good at hiding things."

"That's the whole point, Jakkie-boy. I look calm, you stay calm. I saw those fangs tryin' ta come out before." Balling up the offending cloth, Daxter dropped it back to the sandstone countertop. "But hey, no harm no foul, right? I'll be just dandy once we eat, sleep, and put this last week firmly in our dust trail, ya dig?"

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean." Jak laughed humorlessly. The last five days had been utterly shit, and no power in heaven or earth could persuade them otherwise. At least the worst was, hopefully, over now.

"Alrighty, then. Problem solved. And now if you'll excuse me—me, myself and I will finish up here while you go hose off. Don't forget to leave me some'a that hot water, huh?" The redhead was turning back to the sink, confident in his artful bluff, when Jak caught him by the arm. Before he could get the breath to protest he was tugged back around and pulled against his friend, crushed in a tight hug. "Hey, what the—?!"

"When you stop shaking," Jak whispered, "I'll let go."

Daxter stood still for a moment, beyond surprised, before abandoning all pride and throwing his arms around Jak in return. He must look like he was about to hit the floor in a dead faint if the hero was up for doing something like this. Jak was generally not a very huggy kind of guy.

"It's okay." The voice in his ear was low, deep, and soothing. A big hand awkwardly petted his mussed hair down, roamed cautiously over tense shoulders and upper back. "We're okay, Dax. We're fine. You did great out there today. Neither of us is hurt, and we have a place to stay. It'll be fine, you'll see."

Dax shuddered, not even bothering to care what he had to look like burying his face in Jak's chest like a scared ottsel. No one was there to see the pitiful display anyway. Sig was gone and Pecker had flown off squawking hours earlier at the first sign of trouble. Besides, he craved the reassurance like plants needed water. This whole situation was just complete bullshit and none of it was fair but since when had anything related to them been fair after that day on Misty Island…

"What about you, huh?" Daxter dared a peek up at his friend. "Are you okay? I mean, uh… with what happened the other day, back in, uh, Haven…" Smooth, Daxter. Very smooth.

At the mention of the city Jak's eyes visibly darkened, looking all at once far away. Dax couldn't help but squeeze him tighter. How dare they do something like that to his best pal, the dirty low-down good-for-nothing hypocrites? They were lower than sub-standard metalheads. Lower than roaches. Lower than already chewed gum on a dirty sidewalk that people stepped in after walking through the sewers—

"No. I'm not okay. But I'll get better."

Daxter looked back up at Jak questioningly, startled from his increasingly unflattering musings by the abruptly honest answer. The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Jak's mouth as he ruffled red hair, knocking goggles askew in a habit he hadn't been able to lose along with Daxter's ottsel ears.

"I'll be alright. I've got you here with me, don't I?"

Dax smirked. "As if you'd ever get rid'a me, pal. We stick together no matter what."

"No kidding. I think Veger was ready to jump for joy, getting free of both of us at the same time."

It was hard not to laugh at the memory. There the Demolition Duo had been not four days past, sporting matching handcuffs and being smugly read the official 'you're getting banished' notice by tall, dark, and balding. At the end of the harsh decree Daxter had very solemnly turned to Jak and said—

"You had to point out that his pants were unzipped." Jak chuckled helplessly as the redhead grinned cheekily up at him. "I have to admit I never thought we'd start a potentially deadly cross-desert trek laughing like asses."

"Hey, his dirty underwear was showin'! Sometimes the truth hurts." He had cheered Jak up again. Good. Contentedly Daxter leaned up against his much bigger and warmer bastion of good sense, ready to bask in the affectionate contact until the green-blonde decided it was time to pry him off. One had to take what one could get when not small, orange, and furry enough to be regularly petted. He had learned that months ago as far as touchy-feely time went.

Still smiling, Jak let a heavy arm rest over each of the redhead's thin shoulders and drape down his upper back. "One of these days, Dax, that mouth of yours is going to get us in serious trouble."

"Oh, come now, Jak. When's the last time somethin' I did got us in a fix?"

"Well, there was that time two weeks ago when—"

A hand firmly clamped over Jak's mouth. "That was a hypothetical question, thank you."

Jak shook his head with a muffled growl he didn't mean, and Daxter couldn't stop grinning. He and Jak were playing. In the face of all that had happened, he could still get the hero in a good enough mood to joke around. Life wasn't all bad, not by a long shot.

"I swear… What would ya do without me, Jakkie-boy?"

"I'd go berserk, and Dark would tear this town apart, and eventually someone would get brave enough to gun me down like the crazed animal I—"

"Whoa, whoa!" Daxter's hand flew back to cover Jak's mouth, for real now. He didn't want to hear something like that. "That one was also hypothetical, jeez!"

As the green-blonde muttered something unintelligible behind the restrictive hand Dax felt another little shiver run down his spine. One more affirmation that he was right where he was supposed to be; next to his best pal. A sudden heat in his chest, a happy-nervous flutter a little lower down accompanied the thought, and he was abruptly very aware of Jak's warm mouth pressed against his ungloved palm. Flushing slightly, he pulled the hand away once more and wiped it casually against his sleeve.

Hesitantly, Daxter glanced back up at his friend's relaxed, passably contented face. Jak looked ragged, harried. He looked tired. He looked like he needed that shower and a nice, long, uninterrupted sleep somewhere he didn't have to worry about being ambushed by anyone or anything.

He also looked awfully good, as the redhead was starting to think more and more of late... Dax gulped surreptitiously.

Noticing the intent stare, Jak cocked his head and gave him that slightly puzzled little smile. The one where his ears did perksy and one green brow went up in inquiry. "What?"

Kiss him! Kiss him NOW! Just reach up, grab hold'a his scarf and—

"Uh… nothin'. Guess I spaced out a little there." Boy, he sure was standing awfully close to the big guy… Goofy whims must not be pandered to. Though it was possibly the last thing he wanted to do, Daxter felt himself leaning away slightly. Jak allowed the move, apparently ready to accept that he was alright now.

"Oh. Feeling better?"

"Yeah, yeah, I feel just swell. It's aaall under control." He wished. Oh, did he wish.

"Good." With a last companionable 'that-a-boy' pat on the back, Jak left his side. So did the little happy bubble of warmth and support. "If you think you're going to get upset again you tell me, alright?"

"You got it. Can do." He resisted the urge to do an ultra-lame thumbs up of cheesy reassurance. "Thanks, Jak."

"No problem, partner." With that the hero turned to go, presumably to take care of that much anticipated shower. He was called right back to the kitchen again.

"Hey, Jak?"

"Yeah?"

"We really will be alright here, won't we?" Oddly thoughtful, Daxter twisted the towel as he mused out loud. "It'll be different, but it'll be okay. Right?"

"Right. It's just another adventure, Dax. And we're getting pretty good at those."

"True. Very true." Much more cheerful, the redhead began to stack away the clean dishes without quite remembering to wipe out the dusty cabinets first. Ah, well. One more chore for the next day. "Huh. Y'know, speakin' of adventures. I wonder where that psycho monkaw went."

"Probably crying back to Onin. He'll be back."

"I dunno. From the looks'a the townsfolk around here, maybe he got shot, plucked, an' barbequed." Daxter tried not to sound too hopeful at the prospect. He didn't necessarily succeed.

Chuckling, Jak turned back to the hallway. On his way out, though, a cracked and dusty mirror caught his attention. He paused to take a long look at himself. "Hey, Dax? What would you think about me cutting my hair?"

"It'd probably make sense. Keep ya a lot cooler out here in the wastelands. But then again, I'm sure you'll look pretty no matter what ya do to it, sweetheart."

Jak's eye twitched. "Uh, excuse me? I don't think I heard you right. What was that, again?"

"He-heh. I didn't say a word—blondie." Daxter laughed, ducked around a swat that could have been much harder than it was, and beat Jak to the shower. Yeah. He could handle another adventure alright.

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The end.

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(2nd)AN: So, hey. Maybe this next adventure will herald some new cute and nervous romantic-type feelings on both sides, hmm? Since Keira is officially off stage for the time being, we can only presume to hope.

I'll be honest, this is a chopped apart version of the original short fic, which I wrote to follow the adult-rated version of my "Perfect Dark" fic and to lead into a new one I'll be doing, "Sparkle & Shine." PD is posted on adultfanfiction dot net and features Dark Jak, while S&S will be posted there also and feature Light Jak. Yay for Dax/Jak alter ego smut!

Feel free to check those out (and the mature version of this one, too) if you're old enough and find yourself so inclined. But if not, just stay here and enjoy the warm and fuzzies. They're awful nice, too.