Prepared

Daxter had thought that there may be times when Jak lost it a bit. There were times, like in the wasteland after particularly hairy missions, when Jak would leap onto the nearest leaper lizard and drive the poor animal into a wild dash through the town and back again, until they reached their apartment from the long way around. He would hop off and leave the trembling lizard to stumble over and collapse in the nearest shadow.

Jak seldom looked around further than to make sure it was still alive. He just dashed up the stair and through the door, boots slamming against the floor as he crossed the main room to the smaller, windowless one further inside. In there, he would rip off his armor and shirt and throw them on the sleeping mat, gritting his teeth in agony as all his scars were exposed. Looking like he wanted to ram his head into the wall until all the pain leaked out.

But he'd do sit ups and push ups instead, forcing his body past all remaining limit until he collapsed, desperately gasping for air. To stop the memories.

Then, then small paws could patter up his back or chest, stroking a sweat covered brow or neck or cheek. Because until then, Jak didn't dare to listen, no matter if he wanted to. It would soothe him too soon, before he could force everything away. Before he could make sure that there wouldn't be any room for nightmares when he eventually fell asleep.

Or when in Haven, when he had that same look in his eye, but even more constricted and silently begging – 'don't follow me'.

And he left and Daxter remained alone, waiting for Jak to come back smelling of perfume or cigar smoke or motor oil.

The constricted look exchanged for a drained one.

It could have driven a less caring friend insane.

Wanted to tell him to stop. Wait. Breathe.

Too small hands, unable to grasp and hold.

He became prepared to take a risk.

"Vin, if I jump in the white eco…"

"There's a fifty percent chance of the eco overload rendering you comatose or…"

"The other fifty?"

"Theoretically, I assume- uh, wait!"

And light, light everywhere.

Jak's hands were the first thing he knew when he woke up, clasped tightly over his own. And all four of them of a similar size again.

That smile made everything feel alright for the time being.

He had been prepared that it was fragile, that everything around them could shatter that look on Jak's face again. But he was set on making sure that it came back together every time.

He had told Jak so. That secured the smile.

He had been prepared for that first careful touch, like a test. A murmur close to his face, a forehead against his. Putting his arms around Jak's neck, stronger arms around his own waist.

Feeling Jak breathe deeply, nose buried in his red-blond hair or neck to savor the close smell of a friend like it was oxygen.

Daxter was prepared for the moment Jak's lips touched his. He responded as good as he could, clumsy and unused to it. Jak smiled and laughed with him at that.

That was the best of all.

He was prepared that the pain Jak felt may become too much before the gentleness had a chance to lead all the way through. He was prepared, unconsciously backed up against a wall as Jak clawed at his own face.

But Jak wouldn't touch him like that. Refused it, even in Haven, working himself to exhaustion and lay gasping on the floor rather than give in. Let Daxter drag him up and stumble to the bed, curl up against him.

Breathing. Waiting. Listening.

Silently speaking with his eyes and the hands that grasped a little too hard, but not as hard as they could.

I get scared of losing everything. You. You. You are the most important thing.

"I know, babe. Wouldn't have it any other way either."

But it made things easier, knowing that. He didn't have to be as prepared as he had thought. So that when it happened, he knew it would be gentle and it was. So that he didn't have any problem smiling.

But he was still prepared, that at some point past the gentleness there may be a time when Jak lost it for a bit. When Daxter would hit the bed or floor hard, desperate hands under his shirt and belt in seconds, as if they sought to grasp life slipping away.

He had been prepared to curl up gasping for breath, dozing off in exhaustion.

What he had not been prepared for was to wake up finding Jak sitting on the bedside, face in his hands.

Pushing himself up, the sweat stale blanket clung to Daxter's body. His skin prickled in the air that felt too cool after the warmth of the bed. He winced as sore spots revealed themselves, only to find Jak looking at him in that moment. Tried to kill the grimace, making a joke.

There was only a weak smile in reply.

He wasn't prepared for the silence – silence even without words. Or Jak suddenly standing up, reaching for his shirt on the nightstand.

To leave.

Wasn't prepared, but acted anyway, grabbing the arm as it was about to move away.

Stop.

Looked Jak in the eye, drawing out a silent explanation from the pained expression. Then sighed dramatically.

"You're silly. Why would I hate you?"

Drew him in.

The shirt fell to the floor.

"Why would anyone hate you?"

Wait.

Looked into the face even as the head shook and tried to turn away. But Daxter wouldn't allow it, hanging his legs over the bedside and pulling Jak down beside him.

Blue eyes watching him, speaking words without a voice. Daxter shook his head.

"You're not sick. You're not dirty."

A pause, calmer than the last but still uneasy.

"I dunno why you do it. Well, apart from the fact that I'm irresistible and there's nothing better than to feel alive with a stud like me? C'mere."

Pushing at the back of Jak's head to rest the weary face in the crook of a warm neck. Feeling the quick, uneven snaps for air against his skin and mumbling nonsensical things and simple jokes until they both laid back.

Jak lifted the blanket and spread it over them both.

"There we go, much better. Admit it, babe, I'm right just like always."

A small shake and a mutter.

"You're all trying too hard…"

"Nuh-uh. Don't go thinkin' that. Who's running around like a mad chicken saving the world every five minutes, eh?"

Daxter touched the tip of Jak's nose.

Breathe.

"We love ya. Though I take credit for loving you the most."

He snuggled in closer, wrapping his arms around Jak. Holding the hero still and petting him, murmuring softly until his breathing softened.

Until Jak knew that he was safe.

The end.