Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The city was bustling around him: colorful lights illuminated the windows of the clubs, casting long shadows on the pavement, filled to the brim with people walking about, some less sober than others, and tables, sitting outside bars, obstructing the road. Jabber really liked the nightlife in Canvas Town, it was as if the whole city turned into a nightclub as the sun set, the graffiti crowding the walls staring right back at you in the vibrant light. There was also the noise: not a single corner was silent, the constant buzz of music coming from everywhere around you, so that you could never stop and think. Jabber really liked it.

As he followed the flow of people, he kept glancing around, trying to spot the perfect place for the night. The plan was easy: find someplace to get a drink or two, chat someone up for the sake of it, blow off some steam and crash somewhere, possibly back in his bed, but not necessarily. After all, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do on a free night, and he really really needed a break from the other Raiders. Not that he disliked them or anything, they were just too stuck up when it was time to have fun. The most fun he has ever had with one of them was when he had gone drinking with Bundus, but the old man was no fun when it came to getting drunk. There was also the time when he had shared a joint with Momoa, but she had seemed sober no matter how much smoke, and she had adamantly refused to test one of Mankira’s poisons, just to see how good her tolerance really was. A bummer.

He shook his head as he thought about it, trying to clear it from anything Raiders’ related. He just wanted to take his mind off things for a while. As he was about to walk into the closest club, he abruptly stopped in his tracks as he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, looking at a few buildings back, where two men were walking into a dimly lit bar, the taller one playfully pushing the other inside, much unwilling, inside. He squinted his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the smaller one as the door closed. He would recognize those earrings anywhere: that was Zanka. So he was alive, huh?

Without thinking too much about it, he turned around, closing the distance with said bar in a couple long strides and crossing the threshold. As one could see from outside, it wasn’t as brightly lit as the others in the street, warm lights creating shadows that concealed the faces of the other customers. It wasn’t packed as most would be that late in the night and the music wasn’t as deafening as it should be as only the bassline thrummed through his body. He spotted Zanka sitting at the far end of the counter, bickering with the other man who just laughed, a wide smile creasing his lips. He had seen him somewhere too, he was probably with the Cleaners.

He decided to sit down on the other end of the counter, ordering a drink. He didn’t really know why he had followed him inside. Probably out of curiosity. Nobody would have survived having their guts pierced by Mankira like he had, especially with that cocktail of poison in his bloodstream. It’s true, there was that Pew-Pew girl carrying the gun that had rescued him in the end, but even with a skilled healer on standby it would’ve been tough. Yet Zanka was there, alive and kicking.

Despite the bitter taste in his mouth, an almost manic grin crossed his lips. Zanka had proved himself to be stubborn, stubborn enough to not die so easily. Silly me, to think that he had already given everything that time. His judgement hadn’t been wrong that first time. Zanka was strong.

That realization soon washed away the displeasure of having failed to kill him, since that meant that now he could play again with that new Zanka. Has anything changed since then? Will he be more ruthless now? He could feel his body quiver with anticipation. He couldn't wait to fight him. Even though he craved to see if he had improved, he didn’t make a move, just watching him carefully from afar. Despite his longing to have Zanka's staff sink into his flesh, he didn’t want to do that there, right then. It had to be the perfect time and place. And he had to be in the mood, which he wasn't right now, at least not for a serious serious fight.

At some point he saw the blond man, who he now remembered being the umbrella guy who Fu was supposed to take on back in the trash beast, getting up, leaving his jinki behind, probably to go to the bathroom. That was his chance. Mankira clinked sharply against the glass as he downed his drink, which had been sitting untouched on the counter until then, before he got up, taking long strides towards his prey.

“A drink for this striking man right here.” He called out to the bartender, plopping down on a stool right next to Zanka.

“I don’t drink. And I'm not interested-” Zanka had already begun to say, turning his head to face the newcomer. As soon as he saw him though, his eyes widened and he took a hold of his staff, one of its sharp edges pointed at his throat.

“What are ya doin’ here?” He inquired, the cold metal of his Lovely Assisstaff drawing a droplet of blood from Jabber's neck. They were in the darkest corner of the bar, so no one had noticed what was happening. Jabber smiled, his eyes turning into crescent moons. He raised his hands in a placating manner, his eyes never leaving Zanka's.

“I didn’t come to fight, mr. Bad Attitude. Not now at least. I'm just pleasantly surprised to see you.”

Zanka tightened his grip around the staff, his glare sharpening. He could kill him right now, couldn’t he? He would need to just apply a little more pressure, right? But they were currently in a bar, with people around, and in the middle of Canvas Town. He would get the Hell Guards called on him for killing a man. And then what? Explain to his sister that the man he had killed was actually a menace for society? His knuckles turned white around the handle of the staff and in a warning tone he said, “Well? Now ya've seen me. Go away.”

“Now, now Zan-Zan, that’s not how you treat an old friend.” Jabber replied before getting up and placing his hand directly on the end of the blade that was pressing against his neck, pushing it away with little effort, rivulets of blood now running down his wrist as he closed the distance between them, their noses almost touching.

Zanka instinctively leaned away, but he was unable to move his staff and place it between them. Jabber grinned, seeming amused.

“Woah, your reflexes are always so quick! You know, the thought of your movements becoming duller after your recovery was already paining me.”

“And whose fault would it be if that were the case?” Zanka asked sarcastically.

“Touché.” Jabber replied with a chuckle. “But you weren’t meant to survive.”

Zanka's eyes narrowed, noticing the weird gleam in Jabber's eyes but before he could do anything, he felt a hand, the one which wasn't holding his staff still, touching his stomach, where Mankira had once pierced him.

“You're so stubborn. I can’t imagine how hard it was to heal from something like that. You're completely nuts for surviving that.” Jabber continued, his gaze never shying away from Zanka's.

Zanka, on his part, slapped his hand away with a hiss, as if  his mere touch burned. “Don’t ya dare touchin’ me.”

Jabber silently observed his expression before stating, “I really can’t wait to fight you again. But this is not the time nor the place.”

With that, he took a step back. Zanka instinctively relaxed. Jabber thought he looked really cute like that, unable to fight back and clearly disturbed by their closeness. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and he grinned. Zanka raised an eyebrow but before he could do anything, he felt Mankira’s cold metal resting against his cheek, a pair of lips now on his. He pushed him away, his face pale.

“What the fuck was that!?”

Jabber licked his lips, a stupid grin on his face. “You looked so relieved when I took a step back, I couldn’t resist. That way you won’t forget me until our next encounter. ‘Sides, I meant it when I said you were striking.”

Before Zanka could even put what he was thinking into words, Jabber had already relieved his grip on the Lovely Assisstaff, catching a glimpse of blond hair approaching.

“Well, I guess my time is up. Don’t forget me, Zan-Zan!”

With that, Jabber walked away, becoming one with the shadows. When Enjin came back from the bathroom, no matter how much he prodded, he wasn't able to find out why there was an empty glass in front of Zanka, nor why he kept touching his lips with an absent expression.

Chapter Text

The more Zanka thought about it, the more he couldn’t fathom how he had ended up in such a situation. He could just watch as Jabber carefully moisturized his scalp with some oil he had taken out from God knows where while sitting on his floor, in his room, looking at himself in a small square mirror he had taken from the top of his cabinet. Because obviously he couldn’t do that in his own room, alone. He had to invade Zanka’s space and follow him around like some kind of lost dog. Right.

Zanka honestly craved for his long lost days of peace in the Cleaners’ HQ, when he could just train undisturbed, at his own pace, and then retreat to his room to carefully polish his Lovely Assistaff, maybe hanging around the lounge and chatting when he felt like to. But since he had woken up from that poison-induced comatose state, he hadn’t known what peace felt like anymore. All of that just because Riyo, after drilling bullets into him, had the brilliant idea to take Jabber as an hostage and bring him back to HQ to force intel out of him. Obviously, that hadn’t worked: Jabber didn’t budge even after being repeatedly questioned, saying that only scum would betray his Boss, and violence didn’t seem to work on him either, at least, Enjin had looked utterly exhausted after trying to play the bad cop. 

Since then, he had been stuck with him. Riyo had made sure that he knew that Jabber had been lurking around his room in the infirmary while he was unconscious and, after he had woken up, he seemed to like following him everywhere he went, always going about “how much he wanted to fight him right now” and  “how boring it was to be held hostage”. And he couldn’t do anything about it since the Boss had basically left him in his care with the excuse that he was harmless without his jinki and that he seemed to tolerate only Zanka. He knew though that the last statement wasn’t true, he had seen Jabber pestering Riyo from time to time. She probably just didn’t want to deal with him.

“-thinking about?”

“What?” Zanka asked, snapping out of his thoughts, glancing at Jabber.

“What are you thinking about? You have that cold focused expression.”

“Nothing.” He replied, his eyes following Jabber’s hands as he closed the bottle of hair oil, which looked quite bare without the shine of Mankira’s cold metal resting on each finger. “Where did ya even find that by the way?”

“Uhm? This?” He lightly shook the bottle before putting it back down on the floor, “A gift from Corvus.”

“Huh? The Boss?” He raised an eyebrow, eyeing the bottle with a hinterland of curiosity.

“Yeah, I was asking around earlier today for something like this, but no one seemed to have any, but then he came out of nowhere and gave it to me.”

“Sometimes he’s too nice.” Zanka muttered, crossing his arms.

“You’re holding me captive, it’s the least he could do.” Jabber replied noncommittally while rummaging through a small cloth bag.

Zanka glared at him. “It’s not like ya’ve been helpful.”

“You wound me Zan-Zan,” Jabber dramatically replied, finally fishing out a small bottle with a pinkish liquid in it, “I just don’t betray people that I respect. And I’ve tried to help that jittery healer you have here while you were knocked out, but I didn’t know either what that poison I’ve infected you with was. But anyways, you’re already back on your feet, so you probably didn’t need my help. I mean, it’d be boring if you were so easy to kill.”

Zanka didn’t reply and laid down on his bed with a sigh, trying to ignore whatever Jabber was doing. That was until he felt an acrid smell fill his nostrils and he turned around, glaring daggers at Jabber. “What are ya even doing?”

“Taking off my nail polish. It’s chipped.” He calmly replied, not raising his gaze. Zanka groaned.

“At least open the window.” As he got up to do so, he had to still for a moment, his head spinning, before he could resume his action, the cold night breeze now replacing the stale air that was inside the room. Jabber didn’t miss that hesitation.

“You shouldn’t train as much as you do while you’re still recovering, your body is gonna collapse on itself one day.”

Zanka clicked his tongue, laying back down on his bed. “I didn’t ask fer advice.”

“You’re mad because I got your ass back in the trash beast, right? Because I almost killed you and someone had to rescue you, am I wrong?” Jabber continued while starting to carefully apply nail polish. Zanka glared at him.

“Has no one ever taught ya how to shut yer trap?”

Jabber ignored him. “You know, I was actually bored by the end of our fight, that’s why I tried to kill you. I thought you had exhausted your potential, and a star that can’t burn anymore should just perish in my opinion. But you’ve somehow survived, because you have it in you. You’re just too stuck in your own head and that’s making you waste your potential.”

“Drop dead.” Zanka barked out, turning on his side to give him his back. He heard Jabber chuckle. He felt his face scrunch up. In his head, that laugh sounded almost condescending. He hated it. His gaze fell on his staff, currently standing against the wall, right next to his bed. If he grabbed, he could-

He could do what exactly?

Attack someone who had currently no way to defend himself? Kill him? For what exactly? Because he had told him the truth? He was right, potential and efforts were just wasted on him after all. He would never be and even match with a genius. He was just an average-Joe that had been lucky until then. A hard worker with a mediocre weapon, a mediocre jinki, who could only repeat the same moves over and over again. An easy prey. No matter how much he trained, a genius will appear and breeze through the achievements he had so long worked on.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You think too much.” Suddenly, he felt Jabber’s voice right next to his ear. He abruptly snapped out of his date and noticed how Jabber had climbed on his bed and was hovering over him, his dreads falling down, as if a long curtain had been wrapped around them. He instinctively tried to move away but Jabber pinned him down by the shoulder, his piercing gaze leaving him no room to hide.

“Right now, you thought of jumping me, haven’t you? You’re mad, like really mad for what I’ve said, aren’t you? Then why didn’t you jump me? Why didn’t you talk back?”

Zanka opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. In the end, he settled for, “Yer defenseless right now.”

“So what?” Jabber asked, his magenta eyes studying his face. “You could’ve got me really good, besides, you know as well as I do that I wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. You just think too much. You’re bridling yourself. It’s foolish to say the least.”

Zanka looked away from him, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. “Acting without thinking is foolish.”

“Not if your thinking makes you end up dead.” Jabber replied, his hand ghosting over where the scar from their recent fight was supposed to be, if Zanka hadn’t been touched up by a healer.

Zanka clicked his tongue, trying to shove him away, but Jabber grabbed his wrists firmly and, when Zanka still refused to look at him, he used his free hand to grab him by the chin. Zanka could still smell the freshly applied nail polish. He glared at him. 

“That’s what I was looking for!” Jabber suddenly exclaimed, a manic grin making its way on his lips. “That intense expression right there! You're filled with rage, aren’t you? Ah- If only I had Mankira with me right now, a shame I can’t fight you with all I have…”

That was the last straw for Zanka. With a force he didn’t know he was capable of so late in the day he forcefully shoved him away, thrashing beneath him until their positions reversed, Zanka now straddling Jabber on the bed, a glare so sharp it could cut.

“Shut. Yer. Fuckin’. Mouth.”

Jabber stared at him with wide eyes before starting to laugh uncontrollably, one of his arms flying to cover his eyes as he tried to speak in between wheezes.

“Damn Zanka- I- Fuck… it’s amusing how quickly you switch up.”

“Ya fuck-“ he abruptly trailed off, the dizziness catching up to him. Jabber was quick to sit up and steady him by his shoulders before carefully making him lay down, taking the spot right next to him.

“Easy now. That’s enough for today. You can beat me up tomorrow.”

Zanka groaned, closing his eyes. He felt his head throbbing. “I hate ya.”

“My pleasure.” Jabber replied, getting up to turn off the light before sliding back in his spot on the bed, one of his hands brushing Zanka’s hair back.

“What are ya doing?” Zanka weakly asked, opening one of his eyes to glance at him.

“Nothin’. Your hair is surprisingly soft.” He replied, meeting his gaze.

There was a beat of silence. Jabber thought Zanka had finally collapsed but before he could move his hand away, trying to get comfortable while squished in that twin sized bed, heard Zanka ask, “Where did the nail polish come from anyway?”

Jabber grinned. “Stole it from Enjin.”

“How did ya even-” 

“Locks are easy to pick, y’know?”

“And ya did that for some nail polish?” Zanka muttered, bewildered.

“I could’ve broken down the door but I refrained.”

“He’s gonna get yer ass tomorrow.”

“That’s a problem for tomorrow’s me.”

With that, Jabber turned on his side, draping his arm across Zanka’s middle. Surprisingly, the latter didn’t comment on it.

The next morning though, he firmly denied that such a thing had happened.

Chapter Text

A warm breeze swirled around him, raising whirlpools of sand as his feet hit the ground, sinking slightly with every step. His skin tingled where the sun was hitting it, unlike when he was strolling in the big cities, where the roof prevented the rays from entering. He also enjoyed how his lungs stung with every breath he took in that poisoned air, you couldn’t really get that same feeling in the cities.

In Jabber's opinion, Penta was the best No Man's land to take a walk in when you wanted to clear your mind: it was warm and trash beasts could pop out from beneath you, which was thrilling. The only downside was the sand that kept making him sneeze, but it wasn’t bothering enough to make him put on his mask.

Truth to be told, he'd much rather be fighting a human being than a trash beast, but recently no one had caught his interest enough to actually make him feel something, so the next best thing he could do was slash a couple of huge deadly beasts in their natural habitat while trying to not pass out from the poisoned air. 

As he threaded through the desert, he couldn't help but notice how not even a trash beast seemed to appear: he even tried stomping the ground, hoping the noise would attract them, but it was as if every single one of them had disappeared. He stood still in that expanse of sand, the sun making his skin feeling prickly, until he suddenly heard a loud noise, like something collapsing, far away in the distance, along with a cloud of sand rising.

Without thinking twice, he headed that way, but, as the sand settled, he felt like he had just hit the jackpot: not only were there a bunch of trash beasts all gathered together, but, standing in the middle of them was a person, currently bent double, panting. As he got closer, despite not seeing their face, he recognized the vital instrument: it was Zanka's.

A wide grin spread on his face as he perched himself up on a sand dune to have a better view of the scene. He didn’t think he would've been lucky enough to meet someone that deep into a No Man's land, especially not a Cleaner and especially not Zanka. He watched curiously as Zanka, after catching his breath, kept jumping at every beast in his line of sight, but the more he destroyed them, the more came out, attracted by the commotion. Seeing how they kept cornering him, it was easy to guess that they would eventually overpower him, unless he managed to breach past them and flee but, by watching how he was fighting, even Jabber knew that he wasn’t there just to clean them or protect someone. No, he was there to train.

Jabber couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought: no sane man would put himself in a situation like that one just to train. Zanka was completely nuts. It hadn’t been that long since he had last fought him, almost killing him, yet that seemed like a completely new man. Jabber was thrilled, Mankira already activated. But, for once, he would wait. He wanted to see how long it took for Zanka to exterminate those neverending waves of trash beasts.

It took some time, so much that Jabber had to actually put on his mask, his head feeling a little too dizzy from the polluted air, but in the end, the trash beasts stopped coming and, amidst the piles of waste from destroying them, stood Zanka, leaning with all of his weight on his staff. Jabber perked up at the sight, grinning widely before jumping down from the dune, landing right next to the pile of trash farthest from Zanka.

“Nice job you did here! I didn’t think you’d manage to destroy them all.”

Hearing his voice, Zanka’s head shot up. Jabber couldn’t see his expression thanks to his full face, but he could be almost sure that Zanka was glaring at him.

“What are ya doing here?” Zanka gritted out, trying to stand straighter while still leaning on his staff.

“I wanted to find some trash beasts to fight, but it seems like you’ve got them all.” Jabber tutted with a sigh, kicking some metal scraps that were in his way. Despite his tone, he didn’t seem bothered at all as he approached Zanka, circling around him.

For some reason, that was even more unsettling for Zanka. His knuckles turned white around the handle of his staff, his sharp eyes carefully following Jabber. “So what?’

Jabber grinned, his eyes mere slits on his face. “Guess you'll have to entertain me!”

That was all the warning Zanka got before Jabber came lunging forward, aiming to stab his chest. Zanka barely managed to parry the hit, Mankira’s blades screeching against his staff. Still, he didn’t have the strength to counteract and tumbled back, hitting his head on the ground.

Jabber, on his part, didn’t expect Zanka to fall down so easily, so he ended up following him down, ending up on top of him, Mankira getting stuck in the sand right next to Zanka's head.

“Ya always have the worst timin’, I swear-” Zanka muttered weakly, his voice hoarse as he tried to push Jabber off him. Jabber, though, didn’t budge, his focus suddenly caught by something way more interesting.

“You’re bleeding.” Jabber suddenly said, watching as Zanka's uniform was slowly getting soaked with blood beneath him. It didn’t seem like a life-threatening injury, but the cut, albeit shallow, stretched from his hip to his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, when he was watching from afar, but evidently he hadn’t managed to avoid all the hits.

“No shit Sherlock.” Zanka spit out, his breathing ragged. 

Jabber watched him intently. He hadn’t expected such an outcome, he knew Zanka was reckless, but to let himself end up like that just for the sake of training was foolish. Now he couldn't go at it with the new Zanka. A bummer. Without saying anything, he moved away, sitting down on the sand right next to him, Mankira long retracted.

Eventually, Zanka sat up, not without struggle, drops of blood dropping on the sand. He eyed Jabber suspiciously, his guard still up. “Why are ya sittin’ there broodin’?”

“Because you've got me all excited for nothing.” He replied with a huff, leaning back on his hands. Despite not seeing it, he could feel Zanka's glare on him.

“Me? What did I even do-” Zanka hissed, trailing off in a fit of cough as he clutched his wound.

Jabber gave him a long look, noticing the blood stain slowly expanding. “You need a hand there?”

“I’m fine.” Zanka stubbornly replied, hitching himself up with the help of his staff. Jabber started laughing at the sight.

“Are you really planning to go back like that? Using your staff as a crutch? All the way back to the nearest town at the edge of Penta? You’ll die from blood loss.”

“Shut up.” Zanka huffed, starting to take unsteady steps towards where Jabber had also come from.

Seeing that he was serious, Jabber got up too, catching up to him. “You should really patch yourself up, y’know?”

“I’ll do that once yer gone.” Zanka muttered, shooting him a glare. Jabber sighed.

“It’s a stupid way to die.”

“If I die just for this scratch it means my time has finally come.” Zanka retorted, his tone biting.

Jabber grinned slightly at the remark. He liked how feisty he was being. “What were you even doing all the way here in Penta?”

“‘S none of he business.”

“So training,” Jabber hummed, crossing his arms. “Does anyone even know you’re here? I don’t see Cleaners this far into No Man’s lands usually.”

“Going into a No Man’s land alone is basically signing yerself up for certain death. Obviously they don’t know.” He replied, stopping to catch his breath. More blood dripped on the ground.

This time, Jabber didn’t hesitate and, in a blink of an eye, he had already placed a hand on Zanka’s back, the other one pushing him down on the ground. Zanka tensed up trying, to no avail, to push him away.

“What the fuck are ya doin?”

“You’re gonna die like that, I’m serious. It’d be a waste if I’m not the one that caused your death.” Jabber explained, as if it were the most obvious thing, as he knelt down by his side. Without a second thought, he started tearing up some fabric from his clothes, arranging it in long strips. Zanka just watched, bewildered, until he saw him activating Mankira.

“Hey, what’s that for?”

Jabber looked at him, tilting his head. “You’re barely able to walk and your body’s probably aching. I’ll give you a low dose of a thing that will act like a muscle relaxer. Also I’ve stored antiseptic in one of my claws, you’ll need it. Your wound is nasty.”

“Why would I trust ya?” Zanka hissed, but Jabber had already put his hands on his chest, raising his shit in order to wrap the wound.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to refuse.” He simply replied, pulling the purple fabric harshly. Zanka flinched. Jabber noticed and, for some reason, he almost sounded genuine when he said,

“Sorry. Maybe I should’ve given you the muscle relaxer first. I’ll be more careful.”

After that, his touch was surprisingly gentle, barely grazing his skin as he carefully stopped the bleeding. He tied the makeshift bandage tight before pulling down his shirt, Mankira’s claws now resting right next to Zanka’s neck.

“It’ll prickle a little, just ignore it.” That’s all he said before sinking two of the claws in his neck. Zanka huffed, glancing away. 

After that, Jabber got up, offering him his hand. “Come on, now you should be feeling better.”

Zanka clicked his tongue but grabbed his hand anyways, pulling himself up. “I’m not thankin’ ya.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to. Just stay alive and give me a good fight the next time we meet.” Jabber replied with a lazy grin, “Anyways, guess we’ll be parting here. Try to not get attacked again.”

Zanka huffed. “I hope one of those trash beasts eats ya.”

Jabber chuckled, leaning into his space, looking at him in the eyes. “We’ll see. See ya soon, Zan-Zan.”

By the time Zanka had taken a step back, Jabber had already skipped away. It took him a moment to realize that, when he had leaned in, he had also unclasped the part of his mask that was covering his face, taking it. He tried to run after him, shouting,

“Hey, give it back!”

“Nah, I like the oni theme. It fits you. You should come and get it when we meet next time!” Jabber shouted back.

Zanka eventually stopped, panting, and watched him flee with his newfound treasure.

That night, once he was back to HQ, in the darkness of his room, he touched that rough purple fabric absentmindedly, Jabber’s laughter still echoing in his ears. No matter how much he despised him, for some reason, a part of his heart felt warm at the thought.

Chapter Text

As soon as they got out of the car, Zanka could already see the enormous amount of people heading towards the Doll's Festival. It was natural, after all it was one of the only events of that magnitude that you could find on the Ground. 

“What's with that scowl? You should relax a little.” Along with that cheery voice, Zanka felt Enjin draping an arm across his shoulders, leaning his weight on him.

“We aren’t here to play aroun'” Zanka replied, but his expression had already relaxed as he glanced at the other man.

“Still, having a little fun with the mission doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t the festive air ever get through you at all?” Enjin teased. Zanka sighed.

“Crowds aren’t fer me. ‘Sides the Hell Guards are probably lurking around in case something happens and-”

“You aren’t excited to see your family again, right?” Enjin cut him off, giving him a knowing look.

“Not particularly.” Zanka replied dryly before shrugging him off.

Enjin didn’t comment on it, he just lightly tousled his hair, saying, “Well, don’t think too much about it. Let’s just enjoy this as much as we can right now.”

That was the last thing he said before leaving his side, taking the lead of the group as they started heading up the road that led to the main stage. Though, what Enjin had so carelessly suggested, was easier said than done. As soon as they started walking, they got engulfed by the neverending crowd. The music became louder with every step they took and everywhere there were people wearing masks and costumes, buying from stalls, and kids running around. He even saw Rudo, who was ahead of the group with Enjin, starting to stop to look at stalls, eyes wide, despite being so focused on their mission until a moment prior.

Zanka just watched as Rudo started to eye a stand with candied apples, forcing himself to look away and getting back by Enjin's side. That kid was just so easy to read. With a sigh, he walked away from the group, approaching the vendor. Just as he was about to call out to him, he noticed, out of the corner of his eyes, a tall figure glancing at him from a few stalls ahead of him. He couldn’t really tell much from where he was standing, just that they were wearing black hakama pants, a fitted purple shirt, a long black and purple striped haori on top of it, probably a size too big, and a fox mask, their hair tied back. By the time he had fully turned to look at them though, they had already disappeared, swallowed by the crowd. Zanka shrugged, buying the candied apple before walking back to his group.

“Here.” He simply said, handing the stick to Rudo, who looked at him with wide eyes, alternating from his face to the candied apple. Eventually, he carefully took it, glancing suspiciously at Zanka.

“Why are you doing this?”

Zanka clicked his tongue, glaring at him. “Not even a thanks, ya little brat? Ya were basically eatin’ it with yer eyes.”

“No- I’m- Hell-” Rudo groaned, looking down. After a beat, he quietly muttered, “Thanks.”

“Tch.” Zanka huffed, but his gaze had softened. Enjin didn’t miss it. He stayed a couple steps behind and, as Rudo got caught up in Riyo’s chatting, he teased,

“He’s growing in you, isn’t he?”

“As if,” Zanka replied defensively, crossing his arms. “I don’t like geniuses like him.”

“Sure.” Enjin replied knowingly, a sly grin on his lips. Zanka ignored him, quickening his pace until he reached the head of the group. They were already halfway through the road, but, thanks to the sheer amount of people, he was barely able to see the main stage. He glanced back, trying to see if the others were still there or they had been split up, but, as he did so, he felt a pair of eyes on him. He swiftly turned around, trying to locate the source of the feeling, but he couldn’t spot anyone, just the shadow of a fox mask out of the corner of his eye. He frowned but, as he saw that no one was approaching him, he stopped thinking about it.

Yet, as much as he tried to focus on the mission at hand, he couldn’t help but feel observed, although, every time he turned no one was there to watch. Yet, each time he turned, he always caught a glimpse of that fox mask. They were clearly playing with him. By the time they reached the peak, the main stage feeling closer than ever, even Enjin had noticed how jumpy he seemed to be.

“Everything’s alright?” He asked, placing one of his hands on his shoulder in what tried to be a comforting way.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He replied, shrugging him off with a sigh.

“I’ve never seen you so nervous for a mission.” Enjin commented, crossing his arms, his eyes studying him closely. Zanka glanced away.

“‘M not. Just tense, that’s all.”

“Have you spotted the Hell Guards in the crowd or something?” 

Zanka winced at the thought, but, before he could reply, he noticed how some people had started to gather around something. Out of curiosity, he approached them: there the music was louder and some people had started to dance in the middle of the circle, the other bystanders clapping and encouraging them whistles and shouts.In the middle of them, one of the dancers kept switching partners, until they locked eyes.

It was the same fox mask from earlier. 

“Woah, they’re really good, aren’t they?” Riyo had suddenly appeared by his side, looking curiously at the show.

“Yeah…” Zanka replied absentmindedly, his eyes following the fox person, who, on their part, never stopped looking at him even while spinning.

“You know, this is one of the times I regret never learning how to dance,” She said with a sigh, “it seems so fun… say, do you know how to dance?”

“Uh? What? Why?” Zanka asks back, suddenly snapping out of his daze and looking at her.

“Don’t rich kids always know how to do this kind of thing?” Riyo replied, making a vague gesture in the direction of the dancers. “Don’t they teach you how to?”

Zanka stared at her, trying to process her words. “Nah, I mean- kinda? I took some classes as a kid, but that’s all.”

“Then you should totally join!” Riyo exclaimed excitedly, trying to push him through the crowd. Zanka tried to stop her but still ended up in the front row, right at the edge of the makeshift arena. Right then, Fox Mask got passed around, but they stopped in front of him, offering their hand.

“Care to join me?”

Zanka stared at him but, as he opened his mouth to reply, Riyo pushed him forward and he almost stumbled into the other person’s arms. Without much effort the other had already grasped his hand, pulling him upright before they led him in the middle of the dance floor. Zanka soon caught himself and followed their lead as he was spun around, but, as the music changed, Fox Mask didn’t change partners this time, pulling him closer instead. Zanka soon tuned out of his surroundings, the music feeling far away, his steps practiced, mechanic, and started studying the person in front of him. From that distance, he could tell that it was a man and-

“That’s no good, you’re unfocused. You’re gonna make me bored.” The man said as he made him dip, his hold strong as he supported his back. “You’re the only decent dancer here, don’t tune out of it.”

Zanka stared at him: the voice, muffled from the mask, felt oddly familiar, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “I didn’t want ta dance.”

“Well, you’re here now, so you gotta dance!” The man exclaimed, a sharp laugh escaping from his lips. It sent shivers down Zanka’s spine.

Two more songs went by like that, the crowd cheering them on, but Zanka had long forgotten about his surroundings. For some reason, despite the bad feeling in his gut, he couldn’t help but feel entranced by the man in front of him. It was as if they had synced up and, in that moment, only they existed. Soon, maybe too soon, the last song came to an end and with that the trance he had found himself in. His breathing was heavy and he could feel a hand squeezing his waist.

“That was so fun!” The man shouted, trying to make his voice clear enough above the noise of the excited crowd, “I’ve enjoyed this, you were good. But the spell’s over, I guess it’s time we part.”

Before Zanka could even say anything, the man had already slipped through the crowd, shouting, “See ya Zan-Zan.”

Hearing the nickname, Zanka froze. No wonder that voice felt familiar. Without thinking twice he followed him, calling out, “Hey! Come back here.”

Before he knew it, he had followed him all the way back in an alleyway, far away from the commotion of the main road. The Fox Man stopped, his mask hanging around his neck as he turned around, a wide grin on his lips.

“Woah, I didn’t expect you to actually follow me.”

“Why were ya following me?” Zanka inquired, his eyes narrowing.

Jabber cocked his head to the side, his grin deepening unsettlingly. “I was surprised to spot you in the middle of the crowd, to see you well and all, y’know? I just wanted to see if you’d notice.”

Zanka glared at him. “Then why- why did ya-” 

“Did I do what? Dance with you?” Jabber cut him off, starting to pace around him, like a predator eyeing his prey. “I thought it’d be fun, and I was right. You dance well Zan-Zan.”

Zanka hesitated, confusion clear in his expression, but he soon straightened his back, turning around to leave. “Well whatever, it was a mistake to follow you all the way out here.”

“Not so soon, Zanka.” Jabber chirped, lunging at him, one of his hands resting around his waist while the other blocked him from using his Lovely Assistaff. His magenta eyes locked on him, a grin still plastered on his lips. “Don’t tell me you haven't felt it?”

“Felt what?” Zanka asked, his grip tight around his staff.

“That we’re made for each other.” Jabber said calmly, his hand going up from his waist and coming to rest on Zanka’s cheek.

Zanka tried to scroll him off, frowning. “Yer mad.”

“That’s mean,” Jabber whined, leaning closer, their noses inches apart. Zanka instinctively held his breath, staring at him. Jabber noticed, a sly grin replacing the earlier smile on his lips. His hand carefully caressed his skin, Mankira feeling cold against his cheek, before brushing his fingers through his hair. “Can’t you feel it? You’re the only one who can keep up with me, whether it’s dancing or fighting. You had me so good last time, I still dream about it… I’m glad you’re still alive.”

Zanka stared at him, bewildered, the only thing he could say being, “Ya don’t know what yer talking about.”

“Don’t I though? You haven’t pushed me away.”

Before Zanka could reply, Jabber had already leaned closer, closing the distance between them. Zanka, for a moment, remained still, his mind trying to process what was happening, but, when he tried to push him away, Jabber didn’t budge, grinning against his lips instead. Like that, he pushed Zanka against the closest wall, licking his lips, wanting to be granted access. At that, Zanka blacked out, his lips parting. Jabber didn’t waste time, his tongue already gliding against Zanka’s teeth.

Zanka closed his eyes at the feeling, his grip loosening around his staff as he sensed Jabber letting go of his hand to wrap his arm around his waist, the other resting around his neck as it pulled him impossibly closer. To Zanka’s surprise, it wasn’t as displeasing as he thought it would be. He could feel his back scratching against the wall and his heart thumping in his ears, even as Jabber broke the kiss, catching his breath.

He looked at him in a daze and Jabber looked back, a sly smirk on his lips. “Now you see what I was talking about?” His voice was raspy and lower than it should be.

“I-“ before Zanka’s brain could form a coherent reply, Jabber was already on him again, this time though, his sharp teeth bit down on Zanka’s lower lip until he bled. That seemed enough to wake him up, he pushed Jabber away, his eyes glassy as he covered his lips with the back of his hand. He could feel the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

“What was that fer!?”

Jabber just chuckled, “You should see your face right now. You can’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

Zanka looked away, despite being unable to avoid those magenta eyes, currently zeroed on him. “It doesn’t matter. Why did ya even-“

“You felt it, didn’t you?” Jabber cut him off, his tone suddenly serious. Zanka didn’t reply. He would never admit that the kiss didn’t actually feel disgusting. Or that, despite his stomach being in knots, kissing him had actually felt good. Thrilling even.

Jabber waited for a reply that never came as they started to hear hurried footsteps approaching. Jabber glanced towards one of the ends of the alleyway before pecking Zanka one last time, a grin on his lips. “Well, guess it’s time for us to part. See ya soon, Zan-Zan!”

Zanka watched as he rushed away, his back sliding down the wall as he covered his face with his hands. He didn’t move, until Enjin finally reached him, frowning.

“Why did you rush off like that? Are you embarrassed or something? You were great back there. Let’s go back.”

Zanka didn’t raise his gaze as he got up, a faint blush on his ears.

Now he got what Jabber meant.

Chapter Text

Jabber didn’t mind his new roommate. Since the first day, he had laid down some ‘ground rules’, as he called them, which could basically be summarized with ‘don’t bother me and I won’t bother you’. And he actually abided by them. It was outstanding, really, especially since he had him as a roommate.

Truth to be told, college had always had a hard time assigning him roommates. The longest lasting one had lasted a year with him, but most asked to be moved out within a few months. It wasn’t entirely Jabber's fault though, in his humble opinion, they were just people who didn’t know how to have fun. Or how to stand people who had fun.

With the beginning of the new year, college was having a hard time finding people who would room with him, and that's when Zanka had come into the picture: a transfer student, previously studying at some high end private college, who didn’t know anything about Jabber's history with roommates and didn’t react when they were assigned together. It was just perfect. 

Jabber, on his part, wasn’t too thrilled about it. The last thing he wanted was having to deal with some rich kid prick who had grown up being fed with a silver spoon. He found the thought of seeing how long he'd last amusing: a month? A week? A couple days? Though, in the end, he was pleasantly surprised to be proved wrong. 

Zanka, unlike he had assumed, wasn’t like that at all, and he was also probably the most tolerating one among the roommates he’s had: he mostly stayed out of the room, preferring to study in one of the many libraries on campus, and, whenever he was there, he never said anything about how messy his side of the room was, as long as the mess didn’t reach him, or commented anything about the plethora of bottles with unidentified liquids he kept on his nightstand or the drying plants he kept between the pages of his books, as long as they didn’t pollute the air. He seemed to completely ignore his existence, except for when he had to call him out to turn down the volume of the music or to tell him to not smoke with the window closed. He never acknowledged the smell of weed either, of which he was sure the room reeked whenever Zanka came home late from the library during exam season.

Though, no matter how much he tried, Jabber was never able to get as much of anything about Zanka’s private life. He just knew that he came from a rich family, but he had cut ties with them, he was working part-time in a supermarket to cover his living expenses and he was majoring in physics. That’s all he knew and even by paying attention he couldn’t tell if he had any hobbies or if he had any strong likes or dislikes towards anything. He was an enigma, and Jabber couldn’t help but feel the need to crack it.

Unfortunately, it had been six months of rooming together and Jabber hadn’t had much to work with. No matter how much he tried to piss him off, just to get a reaction out of him, Zanka would just glare at him or give him an earful, never taking the baits Jabber had oh so carefully laid out trying to get something, anything out of him. In the long run, it was slowly consuming Jabber. At some point, he had almost given up on it but then, one day, something happened.

It was early in the afternoon and Jabber was currently working at one of his concoctions, carefully crushing something in a mortar, when the door of the room flew open, Zanka hurrying inside and dropping down on his bed wrapping himself up in his blankets. Jabber stopped, staring at the cocoon of blankets that was currently giving him his back. It had never happened before, usually Zanka would be away until late afternoon and he had never made such an entrance.

“Stop staring.” A muffled low voice came from the midst of blankets.

“How do you know I’m staring? You aren’t looking this way.” Jabber retorted, a grin starting to make its way on his lips.

Zanka didn’t reply. “Ya can laugh at me if ya want.”

At that, Jabber raised an eyebrow, putting the mortar away on his bedside table. “Why would I laugh?”

“‘Cause I’m makin’ a scene.”

“I wouldn’t call that ‘making a scene’, you’re just sulking alone in a corner.” Jabber replied before tilting his head. “Something happened?”

Zanka fell silent again. Jabber sighed. “Well whatever you don’t have to tell me.”

With that, he went back to what he was doing, grabbing the mortar from his nightstand. He knew he couldn’t force anything out of the other and arguing would only make things worse. A couple of minutes passed like that, until Zanka finally turned around, glancing at what he was doing. Jabber didn’t look up, but he could faintly make out, from the corner of his eye, that his eyes were rimmed red.

“What are ya doin’?” 

Jabber smiled slightly at the question. That was the first time Zanka had ever taken interest in his pastimes. “Crushing some raw opium.”

Jabber could feel him staring, probably judging him. Still, he didn’t say anything else, if the other wanted to know, he had to ask. As expected, after a while, another question followed,

“Why?” The tone wasn’t judging, just extremely puzzled.

“Because if you put it in a joint it kinda maxes its effects. You could also smoke it alone, or eat it, but it’s stronger than weed and way more addictive in my opinion, so it’s not worth it.” Jabber replied, finally raising his gaze, as if he was explaining the most elemental thing in the world.

Zanka stared, his focus darting from the mortar to Jabber’s face, his eyebrows knitted. “Where did you even find that?”

“I harvested it last year… I had some left, so I’m crushing it.”

“Ya do that in a dorm room?” Zanka asked, bewildered.

“Yeah? Potted plants are a thing.” He simply replied, tilting his head, as if he didn’t understand why the other seemed so shocked.

“So the bottles on yer nightstand are also drugs?” He finally asked, glancing at them.

Jabber grinned. “Not really, those are mostly poisons, even though none of them should be deadly unless you drink like a glass of them.”

Zanka fell silent again. It took him some time to process all of that, but eventually he asked again, “So ya spend yer free time makin’ those things? Do ya also sell them?”

“Nah, they’re just for personal use, don’t wanna get the cops called on me for now” Jabber replied, leaning back on his hands, before adding with a grin, “Why? You’re interested?”

Zanka clicked his tongue, looking away. “I just don’t see why ya would need all of that.”

“Because they feel good, especially after building some tolerance.” He replied with a hum, taking one of the bottles from his nightstand and showing it to him, “For example this makes you all tingly… but anyways, I also make them because I like the process, y’know?”

Zanka watched the bottle before glancing away. Now, his eyes weren’t as swollen and his voice had lost the raspy feeling it had earlier. Jabber almost found him cute. He got up, putting the bottle away before walking to his clothing rack, where he started to rummage through the pockets of one of his jackets. He then took a small metal tin out of it and went back to his bed before tossing it at Zanka, who promptly caught it and started looking at it suspiciously.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and take one, then pass it back. It’ll take your mind off things for a while.”

Zanka opened the tin and found some rolled joints in it. Usually, he wouldn’t have accepted, but for some reason he took one, tossing the tin back. Jabber grinned.

“That’s the spirit!” He said before taking one for himself, grabbing a lighter from his pocket and lighting it up before throwing the lighter at Zanka. He watched as he clumsily lit it up before taking a drag. Jabber grinned as he saw him frowning.

“First time smoking?”

“Never had the chance before.” He muttered quietly, looking at the smoke coming out of the joint. Jabber hummed, taking a drag himself.

“There’s a first time for everything… for example, this is the first time I’m smoking with one of my roommates."

Zanka glanced up at that, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Jabber sighed, a cloud of smoke leaving his mouth. “I never really got along with them… or rather, they never really liked me. Most of them asked to move out once they walked in on me high or while I was testing one of my poisons… you’re lucky it still hasn’t happened to you, you’d probably be weirded out.”

Zanka didn’t reply. He wasn’t looking at him, his gaze focused on the floor. Jabber had seen him take some drags a little too quickly and seen how it was his first time, he was probably already kinda out of it. Still, he suddenly looked up at Jabber, saying,

“I don’t think it’s weird… I mean, there are weirder things out there…”

Hearing that, Jabber chuckled, looking at the ceiling. “You’re cute, y’know?”

Zanka stared at him before looking away, his ears taking on a reddish color. “Shut up.”

Jabber glanced at him. He had never noticed it before, he thought he had thick skin or something, but it seemed that even someone like him could blush. Cute.

“I mean it.” He remarked, his magenta eyes locking with his blue ones. Zanka huffed and turned away, but his neck looked unmistakenably flushed.

After that, they sat in a comfortable silence, until Zanka finally said,

“Ya know, today I got my results back and I failed an important assignment… teach said I could do better or somethin’, but it was exactly like every other thing that always got me good grades with him… I’m on a scholarship, so if I don’t have good grades they’re gonna cut my funds… so now I hafta find a way ta balance that bad grade…”

Jabber looked at him, blinking slowly. “That teacher should just fuck himself.”

Zanka’s eyes widened and he started laughing, a low, joyful sound. “Yeah, yer right… I’m probably worrying too much.”

Jabber grinned. “Probably.”

Like that, they spent the rest of afternoon chatting, until Zanka eventually dozed off. Jabber glanced at his sleeping form, a lazy smile on his lips. 

Guess he wasn’t that bad after all.

Chapter Text

Zanka considers himself a man of reason, someone who only does the most rational thing when the push comes to shove. His feelings shouldn’t matter when there are greater things at stake, he should just be a means to an end. So why couldn’t he be rational about it?

It had all begun because of a misstep on his part and now-

And now he was actively seeking out that same thrill, ignoring his better judgement. At least, that was the only explanation he could give to himself as to why he was currently sitting inside an inn, waiting for him to arrive.

Just because one time, while he was in a small village near a No Man’s land cleaning trash beasts, he had the luck to run into him. Just because, at the end of that fight neither of them could move anymore and Jabber had voiced one of his usual thoughts, one of those that should stay in his head, something along the lines of,

“Man, this feels so good… we’re made for each other… I’d totally let you fuck me after this.”

And maybe his silence had been too long, because Jabber had turned to look at him and suddenly a sly smile was plastered on his face as he stared right into his eyes and said,

“You know, if you’re up to it, I know an inn where we could go… how about next week?”

Despite it being one of his usual ramblings, Zanka hadn’t stopped thinking about it. It had plagued his mind and he couldn’t do anything about it,

Suddenly, he was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the bell at the entrance ringing and, as he turned around, he saw Jabber, a wide grin on his lips. He didn’t even have the time to say anything that Jabber had already got in his personal space, grabbing him by the wrist and starting to drag him upstairs, where the rooms were.

“I knew you'd show up,” he started going on excitedly, his grip firm around his wrist, as if he was afraid he'd flee. Like Zanka hadn’t chosen that for himself. Like he hadn’t already dug his own grave.

“-eak out?” He snapped out of his daze and he found himself standing in front of a wooden door, Jabber looking at him expectantly.

“What?”

“Did you sneak out?” He asked again, unlocking the door with a key Zanka wasn’t sure where had come from. He hadn’t seen him take it from the innkeeper. Still, he followed him inside, taking off his shoes.

“Couldn’t really walk through the front door. They would’ve asked questions.”

“Couldn’t you have told them the truth?” Jabber had the guts to ask as he sat down on the bed. Zanka looked at him skeptically, to which Jabber chuckled. “I mean, like a half truth. Like that you were going out tonight and you might be spending the night with someone.”

Zanka sighed, leaning against a wooden desk that sat right across from the bed. “I wouldn’t have seen the end of it.”

“So you decided to sneak out.” Jabber concluded with a sly grin. “Man, have I turned you into a bad guy?”

“Bold of ya ta assume I was any good to begin with.” He muttered, and he could feel Jabber's eyes on him. Still, he didn’t say anything else.

There was a beat of silence before Jabber got up from the bed, closing the distance between them and placing each one of his hands on the desk behind Zanka's back, effectively caging him. They looked at each other and Zanka couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at the eyes of a beast. But maybe he looked the same way in that moment.

“Shall we cut to the chase? You've promised me something, haven’t you?” Jabber teased, one of his hands coming to rest on Zanka’s neck, where it joined his shoulder. Mankira felt cold against his skin. Zanka huffed, but didn’t break eye contact.

“It wasn’t a promise… more of a possibility.”

“But you're here,” Jabber pointed out, his thumb now tracing his jaw, “doesn’t that mean that you want to?”

Zanka was never one to let others have the last word, hence why he leaned closer, their lips crashing together. It wasn’t sweet nor gentle, their teeth bumped together and Jabber grinned, taking the chance to bite down on Zanka’s lower lip. Zanka flinched and tried to pull away but Jabber let go of his lips, only to kiss him again, this time with his tongue. He felt the metallic taste of Zanka’s blood in his mouth and he tried to pull him closer by his neck but Zanka pushed him away, panting. Jabber noticed how his lip was still bleeding, a small droplet of blood running down his chin. Before it could drop down, Zanka cleaned it with his hand, glaring at Jabber. Jabber smirked.

“What? Are you mad for something so little?”

Zanka clicked his tongue. “Fuck off.”

Jabber chuckled, one of his arms snaking around his waist, the other one forcefully tilting Zanka’s head up. “You're so easy to tease, it’s counterproductive, don’t you think?”

Zanka opened his mouth to reply but Jabber had already sunk his teeth deep in his flesh, right where his neck was joined to his shoulder. Zanka hissed, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him away once he felt him lapping up the blood of his wound.

“Don’t lick it. It’s disgusting.”

Jabber grinned lazily, seeming to be enjoying the harsh pull on his hair. “Why? It’s gonna stain your clothes otherwise-”

Zanka didn’t let him finish, closing the distance between them and starting to kiss him once again, pushing him back until they reached the bed, where he pushed him down, straddling his middle. He looked down at him and was met with a blissed out expression.

“Ya like being manhandled, huh?”

Jabber grinned. “And the sky is blue, what’s your point?”

Jabber placed a hand on Zanka’s chest, but Zanka didn’t have the time to ask him what he was doing that he felt the sharp blades of Mankira scratching his skin through his clothes. For a moment, he felt a shiver run down his spine as he stared at Jabber. The rational part of his brain was telling him to flee, but he stayed still, his body anchored to the bed. Jabber, noticing his blank expression, smirked.

“What? Are you scared? I’m not gonna poison you for the time being.”

Zanka glared at him. “I wouldn’t have let ya.”

“Sure.” He replied, his free hand starting to play with the hem of Zanka’s T-shirt. “You know, you should get this off, unless you wanna see it torn.”

Zanka didn’t oppose when Jabber took it off him, tossing it somewhere on the floor, before taking off his own in the same fashion.

“Yer starin’.” Zanka said, leaning closer, Mankira’s blades sinking shallowly where they were pressed against his chest.

Jabber met his gaze, tilting his head, as if he were trying to look clueless. “I’m just admiring.”

“‘S still starin’.” Zanka retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes right now.” Jabber replied, slightly increasing the pressure of the blades against his skin. Small crimson droplets started running down Zanka’s fair skin, slowly dropping onto Jabber. 

Zanka didn’t seem to mind enough to acknowledge it, choosing instead to lean closer,  the blades sinking deeper in his chest as he bit down on Jabber’s throat. Jabber gasped, his voice airy.

“Now we’re talking! Are you getting mad?”

“I don’t like that I’m the only one who’s bleedin’.” Zanka muttered, punctuating his words with another bite, this time on Jabber’s shoulder. After that, he started kissing his collarbone, purple marks blooming where he passed. Jabber’s breathing had heavied and Zanka felt Mankira’s blades, this time one his back, leaving long shallow cuts in their trail.

He wasn’t going to leave that room unscathed, that was for sure.

It was early morning when Zanka climbed back in his room at HQ, getting in from the window. The plan was to patch himself up and make himself presentable while forgetting about the events of the night  before going downstairs to grab breakfast. It would’ve been easy, if not for the fact that Riyo was currently laying in his bed, and he had made enough noise for her to stir, rolling around to look at him. He probably looked like he had just fought off a rabid dog: disheveled hair, purple marks blooming all over his neck, some still with dried up blood on them, and faintly blood stained T-shirt. Still, he cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.

“Why are ya here?”

Riyo sat up, yawning. “I noticed the window open last night, you usually sleep locking everything in your room so I got curious and broke in, but you weren’t here. Thought I might catch you sneaking back in if I slept here.” She paused, staring at him before adding, “Should I ask where have you been?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” He replied with a tired sigh, walking to the bathroom. He knew Riyo wouldn’t leave him alone until he told her, but he hoped she'd be merciful at least, seeing the state he was in.

“You know I’ll ask you about it, right? I honestly can’t think of any reason that would make you sneak out and come back like that.” She said on point, noticing the scratches on his back as he changed.

Zanka sighed, his head peeking out from the doorframe of the bathroom as he looked at her. “I’ll tell ya. Just don’t tell Enjin… or anyone else.”

“Deal.”