Characters: Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.
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It was past ten that night when Jak finally called it quits and headed back to Praxis Hall. In a way he felt bad for leaving Phoenix, but rationally he knew that there wasn't anything else he could do to help.
In the hours since the epic brawl in the parking lot, Phoenix had turned the dogged determination he showed on the football field toward helping his roommate however he could. After a hash-out in Sig's office, the running back had become a whirlwind of proficiency. He'd done the best he could on short notice to find out just what could be expected when a non-citizen transfer student like Razer ran in with the law. He had contacted each of Razer's professors, one by one, to let them know without too many details that Razer had been hurt and wouldn't be in class until further notice. He was also in a perpetual fight with the campus police to find out when they would finally release his roommate, who was definitely in need of medical attention if the blood all over his face earlier had been anything to go by.
Through the proceedings Jak had stayed as much for moral support as anything else. "Hey! Everything's going to be okay, alright?" he had finally said, all but shaking his friend when it seemed like Phoenix was going to flip a table after one more fruitless argument over the phone with the authorities. "It's going to work out fine, because Razer didn't do anything wrong. Just remember that."
It had seemed to calm the running back down, and Jak had left shortly after that. As much as he wanted to support his friends, they had no idea how long they would be waiting for Razer to be released. He couldn't sit indefinitely waiting and ignore his other responsibilities. One of which was an extremely pissy ferret.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" Jak dropped his gym bag and opened the cage door. Killer, who had been chewing ineffectively on the bars, ran out like a shot and disappeared under the bunks in a flurry of squeaking. The green-blonde couldn't blame his pet for being antsy. Killer was hardly ever locked up as long as he had been that day. Usually either Jak or Daxter would be home in the afternoon to let him out for a run.
Speaking of Daxter…
Jak dropped down on the edge of his bunk, glancing over at the redhead's desk. The lamp was still off. Daxter's uniform hat and jacket weren't hanging on the back of the chair.
"Guess he had to work late," Jak mused quietly as Killer darted out from under the bed to nip at his shoe. "Can anything else go wrong tonight?"
Dax was supposed to be there, damn it. He was an instant uplift to any bad mood. After hours of focus on one topic Jak needed to talk to someone who wasn't Sig or Phoenix, needed to talk about something that wasn't the foreboding fate of their temperamental foreign neighbor. Plus, Daxter had promised to bring pizza, and when he promised he always delivered.
With a deep sigh Jak fell at an angle across his bunk. He could name at least five things off the top of his head that needed to be done, and he didn't want to think about any of them. There was a pile of homework on his desk that was due the next day. There was a pile of laundry by the wardrobe that should have been washed, dried, and folded by now. The floor and rugs needed to be swept. He had meant to call Uncle that night to touch base. And on top of all that, it was almost time for midnight snacks and he hadn't even had dinner yet.
… screw it. Dinner call in the dining halls ended two hours ago. I can wait for the pizza.
Lying down had been a mistake. Now that he was down, he wanted to stay there. Jak was tired mentally and physically. Going to bed right there on the spot was tempting, if not for the insistent grumbling of his stomach that wasn't going to take no for an answer until breakfast. Then too there was the fact that the quarterback couldn't help but still be restless. His brain simply would not shut up about the day's drama; his body was still twitchy with the anticipation of action that couldn't happen yet. Not with everything at a standstill until the campus authorities saw fit to do something with Razer, for better or worse.
Just relax, he told himself, shutting his eyes and breathing deeply. Think about something nice. Think about the snow. It had started to spit flurries outside around the time true darkness fell, but nothing more substantial than that. Jak was hopeful that there would be more than just a few flakes before morning, though. They might be in for the first snow of the year, something he had always enjoyed. Yeah. Think about snow…
It was easy as anything to summon up an image of home, the barren winter fields covered in white. He and Keira would walk through the woods that bordered the fields, bare trees arching overhead as the snow fell softly among the trunks in giant flakes. The whole world seemed hushed, silent but for the chatter of a blue jay, maybe, or the cawing of a distant crow.
Jak smiled at the thought. It would be winter break soon; a sweet daydream today was next month's very possible reality. He couldn't wait. He missed his uncle, his Keira, and his dog. The one bad thing about going home for the three week recess was that Daxter would be staying on campus.
To make up for the thought of leaving, Jak thought again of his favorite trail through the woods, powdered with new snow, and put Dax there beside the Keira of his imagination. Much better. One of these days he would love to show the city boy redhead that sight for real. How the tracks of deer and raccoons, foxes and rabbits were plain to see in the snow. How the little rills that fed into the creek turned to ice and sparkled like diamonds in the pale winter sun. How the snow clouds haloed a full moon as they blew out, the frosty twilight echoing with the haunting calls of owls.
Have to get him a real coat first, Jak mused idly. He'd freeze to death otherwise, scrawny little shit. Maybe that's what I can get him for Christmas…
The soothing tick of the clock on his desk and the soft rustle of a ferret up to no good under the bunk soon worked their magic. The tension slowly seeped from tightly strung muscles as the green-blonde lay for long minutes, staring at the backs of his eyelids, imagining what it would be like to show Daxter all the wonderful sights and sounds of wintertime in the countryside. Jak never noticed how heavy his eyes were getting. He never registered when they drifted shut. That his bunk was soft and warm and mmmm really nice was the last conscious thought that flitted through his mind before he was out like a light, sprawled on rumpled sheets like a satisfied housecat despite the continued grumbling of his stomach.
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"Dear Ximon; sometimes I really hate you!" Daxter snarled under his breath as he finally trudged into the dorm lobby, trailing melting snow. "You are the biggest, slackin'-est wasteoid I ever laid eyes on. Whenever I'm busy, you show up an' distract me an' then Taryn yells at me fer not payin' attention. But whenever I actually need ya, you split. Sometimes I wanna choke you with yer own ball cap. Have fun cleanin' the bathrooms tomorrow, 'cause I sure as hell didn't do it tonight!" The elevator doors slid shut behind him with a ding of finality as he wrapped up his impromptu verbal memo to his coworker.
Would a ride home have been so very much to ask, with the clock ticking on toward half past eleven and a frigging snow storm going on outside? Apparently it was. In the three minutes it took the redhead to tally the cash register and clock out, Ximon had disappeared. Taryn had offered him a ride, but she lived in a small flat above Pizza Haven and left her car in a parking lot several minutes' walk away. A gentleman did not impose on a lady. So Dax had sucked up his hatred of the cold and set off into the snowy night with a stack of pizzas—a stack that he narrowly avoided wiping out with on several occasions, the sidewalks already taking on a slippery sheen of ice.
Ximon's a good pal an' all, Daxter grumbled to himself as he exited the elevator on 3W. Probably my best friend next ta Jak, even. But sheesh, would it kill the guy ta pay attention once in a while?
At the door of their room, he fumbled his keys out of his jacket pocket with stiff, frozen fingers and sighed. He would have to go buy a pair of gloves tomorrow. He'd been putting it off, but with snow on the ground it was finally time to face the fact that the cold was there to stay. Walking across campus was only going to get worse as true winter came on.
Bracing the pizzas against the doorframe with his chest, he got the key in the lock without too much fumbling and stepped inside. "Hey, Jak. Sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the kind'a night I—" Then he stopped, mid step and mid sentence. At first glance the room seemed deserted. Light was on. Ferret was free. But Jak was where?
A closer look turned up a socked foot hanging off the edge of the bottom bunk. An elbow and a shock of emerald-golden hair could be faintly glimpsed through the slats at the other end. Daxter grinned and shook his head. "Nappin' on the job, huh?" he groused quietly. "Guess I can't blame the big guy too much. I'd fall asleep waitin' on me, too."
He slid the pizza boxes onto Jak's desk haphazardly, stepped over Killer, and poked his head around the bedpost with a loud whisper. "Jak? Hey, Jakkie-boy? I brought some pizza if ya…" Daxter's tongue trailed off as his brain abruptly stopped giving it directions. He froze instinctively and stared.
Wow. Jak's really… wow.
From the very moment they had met, Daxter had admitted to himself that Jak was attractive. The quarterback was muscular without being too buff. His blonde hair was always the perfect combo of tidy and windswept. His blue eyes always glinted with a smirk or a tease. Jak was Playgirl material and Daxter had acknowledged that fact in the way he acknowledged that grass was green. That had been as far as it had gone, though. At least up until a couple weeks ago.
The redhead couldn't be sure when the first insidious thought had slunk in. Hey. Jak's pretty hot. And I kinda dig it. But slink in it did, and once tangled in the recesses of his brain it had clung there like a dandelion's root system and refused to be evicted. He would catch himself eyeing his friend with admiration and curiosity bubbling unchecked, and the problem had only compounded since he had drunkenly decided to lay lips on the guy. He had to avoid looking at Jak's lower half on days when the naturally clingy football uniform made an appearance. Showers were getting downright dangerous. Weird guy-crush-thingie aside, it would ruin everything if Jak caught him staring!
But here, now, right there in front of him, was a very shirtless, very sleeping Jak. One who would never know if a leery redhead stared at him for just a very short minute.
Oh, shit. I shouldn't. I can't creep on my best bud like that! Daxter bit worriedly at his bottom lip, but even as he argued with himself his eyes were eagerly roaming shadowed skin. …maybe just a quick peek. Like maybe just a couple seconds. His hands tightened unconsciously around the bunk bed post as he leaned forward silently.
Even so far through autumn, Jak's skin still held the ghost of his summer tan. That skin looked warm and smooth, devoid of the marks Daxter himself was all too familiar with. He wanted to reach out and touch the broad shoulders that nearly spanned the width of the bunk when Jak was lying on his back like that. Give an experimental poke at the pecs that looked hard as a rock. Maybe run his palm down those washboard abs, see if Jak was ticklish at all. He was grinning at the thought when his eyes descended a scant inch more.
He needed to stop staring. He really needed to stop staring. The longer he stared, the seconds ticking by in slow motion, the more his chest tightened. His heartbeat sped. His alarming blush morphed into a warm, all-encompassing full body flush that was more pleasant than anything. And the more he stupidly, crazily, insanely wanted to reach out and gently trace that deep green treasure trail.
A small movement flickered at the edge of Daxter's peripheral vision a nanosecond before Killer flipped the pizza boxes off the desk.
Ferret, pizzas, and cardboard hit the floor with a loud slap and a crash. Jak came awake like a shot, bolting upright even as Daxter reared back in panic and cracked his head against the underside of the bunk hard enough for white spots to bloom across his vision.
"Fuuuck!" All thoughts flew out of his suddenly throbbing head like someone had knocked them out with a Louisville Slugger. Daxter hit his knees right there on the rug, both hands clasped over the back of his head, and buried his face in the edge of Jak's mattress. "Fuck fuck fuckin' fuck—!"
"What happened?!" Jak demanded. He hovered uncertainly in his bunk, sleep-dazed and disoriented, obviously clueless. Good.
"I just broke my skull on the goddamn bed!" Dax snarled, fingers clenching in his hair. That was going to leave a mark. No way that wasn't going to leave a mark. "I was about ta wake ya up an' then yer freakin' ferret scared the hell out'a me an'—"
"Let me see."
Then there were big hands prying his own hands away from the throbbing, rapidly rising bruise. Jak carded his fingers through red hair as carefully as he petted a sleeping ferret, searching out the hurt and checking it over. Daxter went still, breathing shallowly with his eyes closed as the gentle inspection began to ease the clamoring pain.
"Well, you're gonna have a goose egg in the morning, but it's not bleeding. You're not seeing double or anything, are you?"
"Nah." Dax managed a huff of laughter, face still buried in the blanket. "No concussions here, no thanks ta yer weasel."
Killer had long since fled the scene of the crime. Having recovered from the fright of his tumble off the desk, he was peering out from behind his ferret condo with innocent eyes.
Jak's hands lifted away with one last smoothing of Daxter's hair. The redhead looked up and his breath hitched just a little at the concern still evident in sleepy blue eyes. Oh, man. How did people survive crushes on their friends? If Jak got any more cool and caring and perfect Dax was just going to roll over and die.
He cleared his throat awkwardly in the sudden silence. "So. Uh. I brought pizza. Sorry it's so late."
"Huh? Oh, no, it's fine—" Jak's head jerked up, his hand stilling in the middle of sweeping the hair back off his face. "Wait, what time is it?"
Daxter glanced at his watch, absently rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. "Almost midnight."
"Damn it!" Jak groaned loudly. He slid past Daxter and out of the bunk, cursing under his breath. "I can't believe this! Shit, I wasn't supposed to fall asleep. I need to do laundry, and I have homework due tomorrow, and I need to check on Phoenix, and—"
"And you need ta pull yer pants up," the redhead snickered.
Jak's rant cut off instantly. He yanked up the waist of his pants, ears flushing a dark red. "…right."
Daxter knelt and began to gather the upside down pizza boxes to hide the pink in his own cheeks, biting his lip to stifle a horribly unmanly giggle. He might have a headache for the rest of the night, but that had ended better than he had thought it would. Even the pizza was salvageable; the cheese had already been cold from the walk back to Praxis, so its atoms hadn't fused with those of the lid of the box. The night was looking up.
"Settle down an' have some chow, fake jock," he advised, holding out one of the open boxes. "What's got yer undies all up in a twist, anyway? It ain't like you ta put a list'a chores off all evening. Why didn't ya jump on that when you got home from practice?"
"Because today has been an incarnation of the deepest circle of Hell," Jak sighed ruefully. "I didn't get home until about two hours ago. And I definitely didn't mean to take a nap." He grabbed a paper plate from the stack they kept on top of the microwave and dug three slices out of the box. "Thanks for bringing this, I'm starving."
Daxter gaped. "You were at practice fer seven hours? What the heck happened?!"
"It's a long story," Jak managed around a mouthful of pizza. "Me and Phoenix were in the lockers after practice and—" From his desk, his phone buzzed. "Sorry, hang on a second, I bet that's him!" He grabbed it, read the incoming text, and fired one back. "Thank God, something finally happened."
"What? What happened? Will somebody tell me something?!" Dax flailed. Whatever this was it couldn't be good, and he didn't like being in the dark when something was obviously important.
"Yes, okay. You might want to sit down for this one."
Daxter did, dropping down on the edge of Jak's bed without thinking. Before he could second guess his choice of seating Jak had joined him, sitting cross-legged at the opposite end of the tiny bunk with the box of pizza between them. "Alright, big guy, I'm all ears. Lay it on me."
Jak chose another slice and began again. "So, like I was saying. Me and Phoenix were in the lockers after the game, and all of a sudden there was this huge fight out in the parking lot…"
Daxter listened quietly, nibbling intermittently, as the quarterback regaled him with the whole story of what had transpired outside the stadium that day. At first he was more than ready to believe that Razer had been fighting with the football players, given that the guy had thrown him in a closet just a week ago. But when Jak reached the part about why Razer had been fighting, he was forced to open his mouth.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, waving the hand that wasn't full of pizza crust. "Time out. She accused him of what?"
"Attempted rape." Jak nodded grimly. He had leaned back against the outer bunk bed post and pulled his knees up to loosely rest his arms on them. "Yeah. We couldn't believe it either."
"That's the biggest load'a horse shit I ever heard," Dax said, much louder than should have been necessary for one o'clock in the morning on a weekday. "The guy gets straight A's, so he ain't stupid—no way he'd be moronic enough ta try an' rape a cheerleader, in broad daylight, right outside the goddamn stadium, immediately after practice, with the whole friggin' football team standin' around pickin' at their jockstraps." Not that he thought Razer would do such a thing in a dark alley, either; the older student was surly, and he might have gotten a little rough with the redhead once before, but Daxter was sure that he would never stoop so low. "Plus the fact that anybody who looks at him fer more than three minutes can tell he's battin' fer the other team an' hittin' home runs. Is this chick fer real?"
"That's her story and she's sticking to it," Jak sighed. "But there's no way that would stand up in court. There were witnesses all over the place. Plus, all this happened just out of the fire lane. They were definitely close enough to the building for the security cameras to catch it all." He trailed off, then looked up at Daxter owlishly. "Uh… I don't think I was supposed to say that. So don't go spreading it around, okay?"
"Hey, scout's honor. Who would I tell?"
"Thanks. Phoenix said Razer was released and sent to the hospital. He went to find him and help him get home if they don't keep him overnight. They should be back before much longer."
"Good. Goin' up against all those goons, I bet he did need the ER. An' if they didn't make him post bail, that's a good sign too." Dax reached over the edge of the bed and picked up Killer, bringing the ferret into his lap for an ear scratch. "Sheesh. Drama never slows its roll, does it, weasel face?"
"Dook dook," Killer agreed, and promptly gnawed on his wrist.
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It took almost another full hour for Phoenix and Razer to make it back to the dorm. While he really should have been asleep already, Jak couldn't bring himself to turn in before talking to them for at least a moment. So, perked up by the impromptu nap and the late dinner, Jak made good use of his time while he waited. He ran down to the basement and started the laundry while the redhead tidied their room, then threw himself at his desk and powered through most of his homework. By the time Phoenix texted to let him know that they were in the lobby and coming upstairs, Jak felt almost relaxed.
"Hey, they're here." He poked at Daxter, and together they hurried down the hall to the elevator.
"How bad does he look?" the redhead muttered covertly as they waited. "On a scale of one ta ten?"
Jak was a second too late with his reply. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding.
"Holy shit!" Daxter squawked. "You look like ya got hit by a shuttle bus!"
Jak's palm met his own forehead with a resounding slap. "Way to be tactful, Dax. Nice job with that."
Razer was limping and shuffling like each foot weighed a thousand pounds as Phoenix helped him out of the elevator. His face was mottled with bruises and crisscrossed with cuts. His lip was busted. His ears hung lifelessly in the vicinity of his shoulders. He was also obviously very heavily medicated, but at Daxter's outburst he managed to lift his head a bit and focus glassy green eyes—one of which was surrounded by a lovely shade of purple—on the redhead. "I believe the saying goes, 'you should have seen the other fellows.' Ever charming as usual, miscreant."
Phoenix gave an exhausted but heartfelt laugh. "I'm afraid I have to back that boast, Daxter. I shudder to think how many players he singlehandedly banished to the injury bench for the rest of the season." Hoisting Razer's arm more tightly around his neck, the running back gave his roommate a gentle nudge. "Alright, then, mate. Back to the room with you. Almost there, now."
Jak followed them, silently fretting, as they slowly made their way down the hall. Razer looked even worse now than he had right after the fight. From the looks of him it was hard to understand why he hadn't been admitted to the hospital for the night, at the very least. "If you need anything—I mean that, anything—let us know, okay?"
"Want us ta raid the cafeteria freezers?" Daxter asked, trailing alongside Jak. "Swipe all the frozen peas? There's gotta be at least one steak down there we can slap over that eye."
Jak's ears shot up. "Dax, that's actually a great idea."
"Huh? Hey, wait a sec, I didn't mean we should actually loot the cafeteria!"
"Not the frozen foods," Jak huffed with a roll of his eyes, "just the frozen part. I have a bunch of ice packs in our freezer." They came in handy for the superficial scrapes and bruises everyday life on the gridiron dished out. "Want them, Phoenix?"
"If you won't be needing them, I'm sure we can put them to good use."
To Jak's surprise, it was Daxter who darted into their room as they passed and reappeared moments later with the ice packs. By the time they had transferred the packs to their neighbors' mini-fridge, Phoenix was gently depositing a half conscious Razer on the edge of his bunk. That was their cue to make themselves scarce.
"Hang in there, champ," the redhead said as they walked out. "Things always look better in the morning. An' if they don't, hey, that's what the pain pills are for."
Razer grumbled from the bunk, but made no reply.
"Text me tomorrow," Jak whispered to Phoenix. "Good luck." With a thumbs up from the running back, he crept out into the hall and softly shut the door behind him.
Out in the silent, empty hall, Daxter stretched hard. "Well, glad that's over with. Not much more anybody can do now 'cept let the guy sleep it off. That, an' maybe slap a restrainin' order on that cheerleader."
"It's not over," Jak sighed as they walked back to their own roo,. "Half our damn team is hurt just as bad as he is—some of them even worse. And the start of playoffs is three days from now. Somebody's going to be in a lot of trouble for starting this mess, and I'd bet anything it won't be Razer."
"Hope yer right. Hate for him ta get deported cause some nut job skank set him up."
"Really? Even after he locked you in the closet?"
Daxter flipped his ears and pointedly climbed up to his bunk. "Meh. What closet."
Jak chuckled tiredly. Whether his friend chose to admit it or not, he had a big heart. "Whatever you say, Dax."
The redhead glanced down from fluffing his blankets into place and quirked a brow. "It's gettin' awful late, y'know. You might wanna get some sleep yerself."
"I will. I just need to go back down for the laundry first."
"Okay. No complaints when yer alarm starts bitchin' in the morning." Daxter shuffled under his blankets and flopped back onto his pillow. "Be a pal an' hit the lights?" He peeked over the edge with an imploring pout.
Jak bit the inside of his lip in an effort not to smile at how cute that was. "Sure. Goodnight, Dax."
"Night, big guy. Don't worry, tomorrow will be better. It's gotta be."
Jak honestly hoped so. He turned off all the lights except his desk lamp, grabbed the laundry basket, and headed back to the basement. If nothing else, in the wake of the day's unexpected and unwelcome excitement, sitting in lecture the next day would probably feel like a well deserved break while their small group of friends waited for the other shoe to drop.
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To be continued.