Chapter Text
Shaking and a wet feeling on his back are the first things Jabber processes as he wakes up.
It takes him a moment to remember where he is as he moves and sits up, light pink fluffy blankets assuring him that it most definitely isn't his and Zanka’s room. That and the shaking Amo currently curled up next to where he was lying might be clues.
His eyebrows furrow and he, very slowly, moves to pick her up.
Amo makes a scared noise and bucks, escaping his grasp and throwing herself off of the bed in the process.
“Shit.” He mutters as he steps off of the bed, kneeling then sitting on the floor.
“Mh..” He hums, then starts humming a songless tune as Amo curls in on herself in the corner, pressing herself against the side of the bed and her nightstand.
Slowly, his voice increases in volume, gently bobbing his head as he moves to place one of his hands on her arm.
“Amo,” he singsonged, quiet and careful. Her head tilts slightly, as if not quite recognizing the voice.
“Am’s,” He tries again, carefully moving to pick up the shivering girl.
It was commonplace for him to pick her up, so he is far from unfamiliar to things like this, just... Normally it’s more giggles instead of the sounds that he’s becoming increasingly aware are sobs escaping her.
He carefully takes the top blanket from off of her bed, and opens the closet door with the hand that isn't currently supporting her legs. In the closet lies a small cushion on the floor, only big enough for maybe two people. Amo calls her room her nest, but overall this is truly it. There are pieces of clothing from all of the people in the cleaners she likes, and a small section of the wall that hides some of her comfort foods and drinks.
Only a few people know that this place exists, much less are allowed in.
He plops himself on the cushion, grabbing a weighted rabbit that had fallen from the bed, and cradles it to his chest as he closes the door. Her shaking hasn’t stopped, he takes note of, so he places the multicolored rabbit on her torso, and tightens his grip slightly.
It isn't something he really understands, but he knows both from Amo+her mama, as well as a book about parenting neurodivergent kids (Zanka does NOT know he got this trick from there, and she will NOT find out), that pressure slash weight can help with meltdowns and other mental stressors.
He leans back and scoots a pillow behind his back, knowing that he might be here for a while.
It isn't about getting her out of this as quickly as possible; it's about making sure she has support.
A breath out. He breathes in, and as he does, he lightly increases pressure on her, then four seconds later, exhales and loosens his grip slightly. He closes his eyes, amused if not a little agitated at the little fairy-star lights she has hung from the ceiling. Another breath, he goes on for minutes counting to four and controlling it, and slowly, surely, Amo’s calms.
He uses his sleeve to wipe the wetness off her face, and then goes to the next step of this little dance. Moving the pillow under his butt, he starts rocking them, ignoring the slight ache in his arms as he starts humming again.
Didn’t she have a music player somewhere in here? He uses one of his hands to dig around on the ground and finds the small black rectangle.
Turning it on, he presses play on the first thing that pops up, some playlist of music for when Amo is trying to self-regulate, and soft piano keys and violin start playing quietly. It’s not his kind of music, and not hers when she's feeling happy or angry, but hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, and if that means listening to soft shit, that means listening to soft shit. He recognizes some of it, he has to admit, as it keeps playing. From music from the little movies they watched for family movie night when it was kids' time, from the music that Gris plays on the early mornings he chooses to make food for Enjin.
He should really do that, he thinks. In the morning, tell Zanka to get the boy down, and make some pancakes for or with Amo and them.
It sounds cute.
It sounds right for where he is now.
Never would Jabber in the past ever have thought this is where he would be, cradling some kid he accidentally adopted, thinking of domesticity with a.. Family that he’s made. When Jabber was a kid, he didn’t even think he would live to be a teenager. Now he’s almost twenty, and hasn’t had to fight anyone not of his own volition in a good while.
He never thought he was worthy of a family. He had some weird thing in his head about how he was different; the only thing he needed was to survive, and to kick ass doing it. Which he did! Back in his fighting days, he literally got kicked out of the ring because if you kill your opponent, that means they can’t fight anyone else, which means losing funding. A rant he’s heard a billion times, that he thought was bullshit then and still thinks is insane now, but for different reasons.
He gets Amo! He gets Fu! The whole not being in control of your own actions is like, what, 50% of his backstory; it’s not a shock for him. It just makes it so nights like this come easier.
Amo doesn’t know what happened to him. No one really does; there are parts of his past that he refuses to say aloud. If he was emo, he would say it was because saying them aloud made them real; it made it something that happened to a human, to him, and not just something he imagined. But in reality, it just doesn’t sound like him.
What do you think the Jabber Wonger would talk about his tragic backstory? No! It’s not fuckin’ important. That shit happened years ago, and if he can’t get over it, that’s his fuckin’ problem.
Because ultimately, he’s done horrible shit. Like, really, bad stuff. Whether it was his fault is debatable. But it kinda evens out the stuff that happened to him, you know?
Regardless, regardless, it all ended up with him here.
The people around him are right when they look at him dirty, saying how he doesn’t deserve Zanka, because she truly has given him everything.
Amo rubs her face against his chest and smears snot on his shirt.
And there is nowhere he would rather be.
He would spend the rest of his life helping Amo, or his other weird-ass roommates, because, as cheesy as it is, it’s nice here. He never had something like what the cleaners had; the Raiders were something of convenience that didn’t have any true loyalty to them, but here, they're living together. Not just in the literal sense. They’re growing and learning, in a way that is so much less twisted than how Zoydal was with some of the younger raiders.
Not to say that the cleaners are perfect; he’s said it before, he will say it again, they still have child soldiers. There is no reason to see a life-threatening situation and send Team Child or Rudo of all people.
But regardless, improvements can be made. If he bullies Enjin enough about it..
“Beebee?” Amo’s voice interrupts his thoughts, and he yawns.
“What’s up, feeling better?”
Amo nods her head.
“Wasn’t having a good time.” She says quietly, her head shaking slightly. “Amo’s sorry.”
Jabber smiles, putting a hand in her hair and ruffling it slightly. “No problem, girly-girl, you know I don’t mind.”
She looks up at him, as if making sure he really doesn’t mind.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asks, head tilting slightly.
Her head pushes onto his chest, and she’s moving in a way he can tell she’s trying to find his heartbeat.
“no,” she whispers, her voice hardly there.
“That’s okay,” He threads his fingers through her hair and gently goes through it, detangling some of the knots.
Jabber hums slightly to the music, absentmindedly starting to rock again.
“Beebee is what they told Amo a good mama is.”
His eyes widen as she speaks into his chest, then he closes them.
“Eh, some people’s perspectives fucked up.”
Amo’s eyebrows furrow, and Jabber huffs at how adorable it is as she looks up at him.
“Amo agrees with them though,” Her tone is almost confused as to why he disagreed.
He hums, furrowing his own brow as he thinks.
“I ain’t good. But y’know I try,” He gives a smile, and Amo deadpans at him.
“Beebee’s listening to Ms. Zanka too much.”
His eyes widen, and his mouth opens comically.
“Yeah, well you been lisin’ to me too much from how you’re sassin’ me.”
Amo hums.
She moves to have her arms around him and squeezes him.
“Amo doesn’t mind it.”
“I know you don’t, baby,” He sighs and opens the closet door, bringing her back up and dropping her onto the bed.
She looks up at him, and he takes a breath.
“You feeling good enough to sleep?”
“Amo can.”
He hums, walking back over and sitting on the bed for a second, opening his arms. Amo crawls over and throws her arms over his shoulders, and he holds her for a second longer.
“Alright, you get some sleep,” he stands up, dusting himself off and tossing her a grin, “I’ll come get you for breakfast later, huh?”
“Amo would like that.” She nods.
A chuckle.
“I figured.” He muses.
“Can Rudo and Ms. Zanka eat with us?”
He snorts and ruffles her hair.
“Course babygirl, now get some good rest, I’ll get you up in a little. We’ll make some for whoever you want then.”
She nods her head and grabs one of her blankets, and he can see her curling up as he exits the room.
Totally worth it.