Title: Mornings
Summary: Even heroes like to sleep in.
Point of View: Jak/Daxter (it kinda bounces around)
Rated: T for Teen cuza Jak's dirty little mouth

A/n: Finally a funny one! Yay funny one! -is happy- This fic has been floating around my save file for a good while now, but I finally got my butt in gear and finished it last night. Just a little look at what maybe the average morning of everyone's favorites antiheros is like. This is set probably very close to the beginning of Jak 3 or there abouts. Blah blah blah, enjoy

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Morning always had a way of sneaking up on them. Nowadays, however, they had the ability to sleep it away once it came, an option they happily took advantage of on many an occasion.

Eventually, though, one did have to get out of bed. It just sort of bugged him that he was always the first to do it.

With a loud groan, Jak forced himself to sit up in his bed. Back pains were there, as always. Damn crap-mattress. Meh, he had grabbed it off the street, anyways. Couldn't really expect much from used furniture in this city.

Really, he blamed that metal bed they had him sleeping on. He hadn't had any type of back problems before then. Goddamn stupid freakin' Bastar-

Pushing his feet over the side of the bed, the blonde stood and stretched. Things popped noisily, just as usual. Then they settled back into place and he heaved a loud sigh before flopping over, letting all of his muscles go loose. His feet took over afterwards and he shuffled away from bed into the bathroom to take care of some…morning business. Eventually he shuffled right back out and made his way for the door leading out of his bedroom.

As he passed his dresser, he gave the second drawer from the bottom, which was currently hanging open, an unceremonious kick. It rattled in place and a muffled cry erupted from deep inside. The blonde was already in the threshold when a poofy orange head poked itself out of the mound of clothes occupying the drawer.

"Do yah always haveta' kick it?" barked Daxter in a sleepy slur as he tried to untangle himself from the pants he had been using as a blanket. His only reply was a incoherent muddle of grunts expressed from his companion as he stormed his way into the kitchen. The Ottsel kicked for a few more moments, still trying to dislodge himself from the deathtrap known not only as his bed but also as Jak's pants drawer, before finally giving up and flopping back down.

He'd just catch a few more moments of shut-eye. Jak wouldn't notice he was gone anyways.

And how right Daxter was, as the blonde was too occupied with sifting through their crap-fridge to notice his shoulder buddy's absence. The milk had gone bad over night, as had most of the veggies. Oh, but looky there, the protein bars and health shakes they had lifted from the HQ back when it still was quite literally underground were still good.

They were, what, a year and a half old by now?

Another series of grunts with a few halfway understandable curses thrown in left the hero's mouth as he grabbed one of the shakes and slammed the door shut unhappily. One of these days he'd pump Ashelin for some of his 'Hero's reward' so they'd be able to get some damn decent food.

One of these days…

Grabbing a box off the top of the fridge with one hand and fishing what he believed to be two clean bowls from the bottom of the sink with the other, Jak turned and dumped the objects as well as the shake he had tucked haphazardly into his arm-pit onto the table in the middle of the room before heading back out of the room.

Now in his bedroom once again, the blonde approached his dresser and, awake enough to care slightly, placed his hands on his hips in a slight huff. He dealt the open drawer he knew to contain a certain rodent another swift kick. Instantaneously, Daxter shot up, blinking owlishly around in a sleepy daze.

"'m up, I'm up," the animal muttered, again attempting to push his makeshift covers off. This time Jak stayed to help, an amused grin crossing his face as he untangled his friend. Daxter, now free of the pants of death, was offered an arm up and scampered onto his usual perch next to Jak's head, a spot he could luckily find in his sleep.

After the successful rescue, the blonde plus shoulder ornament stumbled back into the kitchen/living room/disaster zone. Jak unloaded his friend onto the table and dropped himself into the only chair beside it. The animal proceeded to launch himself at the box Jak had removed from atop the fridge; his favorite brand of Haven cereal.

Daxter grabbed up the box and hoisted it into the air to position the opening over his mouth. "Daxxie likes him some freeze-dried marshmallows."

"Hey, hey," Jak snapped, the first coherent words he'd muttered all morning, as he swatted the fur-ball away. Daxter replied by making a face and a rude gesture, which Jak ignored, before relinquishing the breakfast food. The blonde rolled his eyes and snatched up the box. "Thank you," he muttered, arranging the bowls he had picked out earlier side-by-side. Jak then flipped open the box of cereal and proceeded to lazily pour its contents into the bowls, not caring when the flow of grain-based chunks missed and spilled onto the table.

When both bowls were fairly full, Jak re-closed the box and set it aside in exchange for his crap-shake. Daxter eyed the drink with a queasy look across his face, as if the sight of it brought back bad memories, while his friend untwisted the cap. Then, much to the animal's disgust, the blonde poured the thick liquid atop his cereal. "Why'dja go and do that fer?" Orange Lightning cried in horror.

Jak shrugged before reaching across the table and making it look like he would empty the rest of the foul drink into his friend's breakfast. The animal yelped and picked up his bowl to hold it out of the shake's reach.

"Suit yourself," muttered Jak, now wearing a toothy grin. He then set out to eat his own shaketastic meal only to realize he didn't have a spoon with which to begin. "Shit," came his response to this new information. As Jak jumped from his chair to find a clean or clean enough spoon to use, Daxter stuck his paw into his bowl, scooped up a handful of cereal and stuffed it in his mouth, all the while glaring at his partner's food as if it were the spawn of all evil.

Jak returned victorious a moment later and dug into his food. Dax noted the disgusting splash his spoon made against the mushy health shake. As he watched his friend chew, the animal couldn't help but wonder what had possessed him to make such a horrible concoction. Reading his friend's expression, Jak muttered, "Milk's bad," around a mouthful of shake and flakes.

"That health crap ain't milk," replied the Ottsel before fishing out another handful of marshmallowy goodness.

Jak shrugged. "'t's got milk in it." He spooned another portion of his bowl into his mouth. "Just woulda stayed in there 'till it got bad, anyways."

Dax made another face, imagining what it would take for such a substance to curdle. And what it would look like when it curdled. He let out a groan and picked through the grains to find one of the sweets to take his mind off the mental images. The rodent finally came across a marshmallow and picked it out of the mound of non-marshmallows. It was shaped like the new Krimzon Guard logo. He popped it in his mouth happily.

"'t's not all that bad," muttered Jak after a moment of just chewing. He took a big spoonful and shoved it in his friend's face. "C'mon, try some." Daxter yelped and smacked the spoon away. The mushy glob flew from the utensil and landed on the table with a wet splat. "C'mooon, you know you wanna," Jak reloaded and tried again.

"No way!" Daxter clamped his mouth shut.

"Do it."

"Uh-uh!" The rodent shook his head.

The blonde moved to fit the spoon through his friend's closed lips. "It's good for yah!"

Jak's communicator went off and never before had Daxter been so happy to hear its obnoxious beeping.

"Call!" he cried, pointing frantically at the device lying a few feet away atop a pile of Jak pants. The rat ducked another one of his buddy's spoon attacks. "Jak, itsa call! Answer it, Jak!" Another jab from the glob of death and it became apparent the blonde was having too much fun tormenting his little companion to answer. Desperate, the Ottsel bounded off the table to get it himself. "Whatevah yah want, I love yah," he muttered into the speaker as he held the comm. with both paws.

"Wonderful," came a raspy deadpan that could only belong to the new Commander of Freedom HQ. "I hope you'll forgive me then if I skip the sweet nothings and get right to business."

Daxter rolled his beady blue eyes. "Anything fer you, Pinstripes," he replied in his best baby-voice. By now Jak had set aside his 'weapon' and had joined Daxter on the floor in a squat.

"Tell Jak the council needs to see him," continued Torn. The man in question bared his teeth. Anything to do with the council made his blood boil and anyone near him knew that.

Daxter gave the youth beside him an encouraging pat on the arm and Jak's eyes faded back to their normal deep blue. "Sure thing." Then the rodent flashed his partner a huge grin. "One more thing, though," he said.

"…what?"

"Whatcha have for breakfast, Tornie?"

The line was silent for a moment. Across town, Torn was looking at his communicator like it had sprouted a little orange furred mug.

"Why?"

"Why?" mimicked the Ottsel, making it sound like the question was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "Why? Cuz everyone needs tah start off their day wit a balanced breakfast, Sunshine." Back in their room, Jak gave a grunt like laugh as he dressed.

"…Rat, it's three thirty in the evening."

"So?"

Back cross town, Torn drew back his arm as if to chuck the comm. at the wall. Many a Guard in the path of fire quickly dropped to the floor. Lucky for them and the poor communicator, the tattooed soldier changed his mind and brought the device peacefully back to his mouth.

"I don't eat breakfast."

Daxter shot Jak, who had just returned to the living room and was currently fastening the straps of his jacket, a self satisfied grin. "Aww, that ain't healthy at all. Don't worry though, Jak'll fix yah up wit a recipe of 'is when we get down there."