Note: Don't own Jak and Daxter, or anything else that belongs to Naughty Dog. Those naughty dogs...LoL. They get all the good stuff...ZOMG or the Simpsons. I don't own them.

On with the show!

CHAPTER SEVEN (Oh. My. God. Is this ever gonna end?!)

Jak was woken up roughly by a pair of thin but large hands shoving him to the side. "Aaaagh!" Jak yelled as he fell to the floor, only to find that Torn was sprawled all over his bunk. 'When did he get there?' Jak asked himself. 'And more importantly, why?' Jak shook it off and got revenge. Revenge, you ask, what kind of revenge? Why, my friend, the sweetest revenge there is. He took a ball of string and wrapped it around the bunk posts, up and down and back and forth and side to side and to and fro and corner to corner until it looked like a tangled mess over and around Torn. Now, when Torn woke up 45 minutes later, he tried to get up and got caught in the mess of string. He swore loudly in multiple languages, some of which Jak didn't even recognize. "Jak, get me out of here!" He shouted. "Sweet revenge, Torn. You shoved me off my bunk, you see."

"Did I? Well, sorry. Now get me out of this damn thing! It's uncomfortable." Jak shook his head and went to go make breakfast. "Jak? Jak! Damn it Jak, get over here! That's an order!"

"You're not supposed to give me orders this week, remember? It's my week off." Jak called back teasingly. "Jak! You best get me out of this thing or else!"

"Or else what? You're stuck in a web of string!" Torn growled angrily, and kept struggling, actually managing to choke himself at one point. At this point, Jak decided quickly that the joke had gone too far and cut Torn loose. Torn immediately wrapped his hands around Jak's neck, choking him a la Bart Simpson. Jak bit Torn's hand. "Ow!" Torn took his hands back. "That was for tying me up in that, by the freakin' way." Torn said angrily. "It was revenge for pushing me off my bunk! What the hell were you doing in my bed, anyway?"

"I just conked out there about midnight, it was dark and I didn't know you were there. I was tired and out of my head, I didn't know." Torn explained, wrapping his bitten (and bleeding) finger in some gauze. "Well, you didn't feel that there was somebody else there?"

"Like I said, I conked out. I was out before I hit the bed." Suddenly an explosion outside alerted the two of them to something big. Jak ran outside first, seeing Daxter motionless in the road. "Dax!" Jak picked up his orange buddy. Dax was still in his hands, limp and his body was cooling fast. "Torn! Dax is in trouble!" Torn ran out and saw the limp body of the orange Ottsel. "Get him inside." Dax suddenly gasped. "Jak" he mumbled. "Dax?"

"When two feet tall...don't take a Cruiser through South Town." Dax rasped out. "He's fine." Torn observed. "Where have you been?" Jak asked. "Kras." Dax replied. "Come on, let's get you inside." Torn and Jak left the smoldering mass of metal where it lay. "Daxter, what happened? Don't tell me you were just driving, because I know how you drive, and this isn't it."

"Tryin' to impress the ladies."

"Of course." Torn mumbled under his breath. "Daxter, you look like you plowed into a wall!"

"Did." Jak was putting a bandage on Daxter's head, which had a nasty gash running over his left eye and his goggles were missing, probably smashed about a mile back. "Daxter, driving safely and driving recklessly are two different things. Girls aren't attracted to guys who put themselves in danger foolishly." Jak explained. "But you do it all the time."

"I drive to get from A to B. The danger isn't my choice, you know that." Jak said scoldingly, as if he was admonishing a small child. Daxter looked away from Jak, ashamed he'd gotten himself in so much trouble it ended up in him getting hurt. Torn watched Jak scold Daxter and felt something in his chest. Pity? No, he didn't pity Daxter. It wasn't worth it. Amusement? No, no matter how funny it was to see Daxter ashamed with himself, finding amusement at his physical pain was just wrong. Affection? For who? Daxter? Hell no! Jak? Well, Torn had never really thought it through enough, but when down to brass tacks, Torn did have a certain amount of liking for the blonde teen. Torn felt his tattooed cheeks begin to redden at the thought. Jak stood up, having finished bandaging the Ottsel. "Now, come on, Dax. You know I'm only trying to help." Jak pet Daxter's head affectionately. "Jak, do me a favor?"

"Anything, Dax."

"Patch me up any time I get myself shot."

"No problem. What are friends for?" Torn looked down at his feet and sat down at his desk.

Torn was having a difficult time with his new revelation.

Was he in love with Jak?

CHAPTER EIGHT COMING SOON

NO FLAMES PLZ