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A crackle of thunder echoed through the trashed ruins as an onslaught of rain poured onto Jabber.
Wandering during a storm because he had nothing to do. Again. What kind of evil boredom was this? He kept walking despite the rain, every once in a while, wiping his eyes, and taking in the surroundings unblured.
He should go fight Zanka. Jabber bets he'll look ten times prettier breathing heavy, drenched in water, his shirt clinging to his waist, showing it off in perfect detail. Jabber's feet kept shuffling, as he giggled happily, walking towards the ruined parking complex in front of him. According to Cthoni, this place might have some valuable stuff he could snatch.
____
Zanka stays circling his mind like usual. Jabber begins climbing rickety stairs, stepping into the large concrete expanse of level... 4.
Blood stains the walls, old paint peeling. The wrecked cars lay skewed out like rocks on a beach, painting the scene with even more tragedy. It reeked of iron. Fresh, strangely enough. This place got fucked like, 3 months ago? Jabber estimated cleaning crews would have already dragged bodies out. He keeps ambling, in search of any intact valuables. Unlikely, but whatever excuse got him a chance to see his beloved.
A single light stays flickering, kinda poetic in a way. Like it's just barely holding on. Jabber scrambles through all sorts of piles, breaking through glass windows, with the kind of hunger of a wounded animal desperate to heal itself. He approached a rather luxurious sedan, totaled and slammed into the wall. One half was completely intact, so Jabber cracked the unlocked door open to peek inside.
His hand came down on the leather, an immediate familiar warm wetness coating the tips of his fingers.
Blood.
Fresh blood
His heart beat faster and faster, as his bloody filangies fumbled out his purple lantern. Shining it onto the body, he froze.
Familiar uniform. Cleaners. The body's face was contorted in all sorts of jagged angles, a portrait of pain graffitied by someone that wasn't allowed to.
Jabber's hand acted on its own accord, whipping out and pressing a ringed finger against a pale, reddened wrist. The feeling of a vein still dutifully pumping blood told Jabber everything he needed to know. He dragged the body, his beloved's body, out onto the cold, cracked pavement.
Fuck, he didn't know how to do CPR, what if he wasn't breathing-
he was.
The shallow rise and fall of the boy's chest indicated his airways were clear. Jabber thought quickly, deciding to derobe him and lay him down on the towel Jabber'd brought with when he left base.
Peeling away at Zanka's clothes felt far too intimate for Jabber. He was caring for this man, something he didn't do. He usually was the one to make Zanka bleed.
Anger flaired in Jabber's heart, skipping multiple beats. His eyes shook as Zanka's bar, bruised, scarred, and bloody body was revealed. Stab wound to the leg, slash on the pelvis, and what looked like an attempted gutting that only ended in a deep gash.
Jabber pulled out a rag and bandages from his pockets, intuition telling him something really, really, really bad might happen that morning.
He cleansed the wounds after soaking the rag in the rain, wrapping fresh bandages and stopping the bleeding as best as he could. He couldn't do too much without either laying himself out by going to the cleaners' or getting scolded by Cthoni for his appearent extremely obvious crush on the younger boy.
He chose the latter, deciding to keep Zanka with him longer. He smiled at feeling the warmth of Zanka's bare stomach on his calloused hands. He still felt a deep rooted contempt for who did this, but decided to set it off for later.
Jabber felt nervous for the first time in a while, heart going a mile a minute as he softly placed his hands on Zanka's waist. Feeling the thinness, empty stomach, and the perpetual warmth flooded over Jabber in waves. He sighed, and retracted his hands. He wanted Zanka to be awake, aware and okay with it if he were to...
Jabber's face flushed, and he steadied himself. He walked back to the sedan, sniffing the seats and smelling for a scent besides Zanka's. Faint alcohol.
This dipshit was about to get theur fucking intestines wringed around their neck.
Jabber picked everything up, stuffing it all into his pockets, and haphazardly piling Zanka's clothing onto his own shoulder. It smelled so much like Zanka, the anger was lost for a split second as Jabber took in an inhale. He inhaled Zanka, and wished he could for the rest of his life.
Hoisting said boy now wrapped in his purple waist cloth, Jabber ran towards base as fast as he could, staying in the shadows, as other cleaners must be bound to appear. He'll return Zanka tomorrow. Or never. He'll decide after Cthoni's lecture.
The wet concrete, still getting bombarded by droplets, splashed under Jabber's feet. If he stayed out here with the barely clothed Zanka, he'd end up giving his love hypothermia, and more suffering was definetly not needed. He still wasn't exactly sure how Zanka felt on the whole 'fight dates' thing, so he shouldn't bet that the boy would enjoy getting an ailment.
Jabber deftly slipped into a shady alleyway, coming to a stop at a manhole in the ground. it was slightly open, so he kicked it, before slipping down and landing in a dingy lobby.
All eyes turned on him, and the newcomer, who was still knocked out and definetly needed a change of bandages and clothing.
Cthoni immediately materialized behind him once he had sprawled Zanka out on the floor again, with less blood and more bandages.
"Jabber. What are you thinking? What If he's only pretending-" Cthoni gets rudely cut off by Jabber, his eyes rolling.
"He isn't. I double checked." He replied with a smirk, and focused back on Zanka's covered form. Cthoni decided she would reprimand him after he finishes patching his obvious crush up. She lightly kicked his hunched over back, and walked out of the room.
Jabber's anger immediately swelled in his chest,
"No one's ever going to hurt you like this besides me." He growled, voice low. He unwrapped the already bled through bandages with care, rewrapping them like Zanka was a vase someone broke that Jabber treasured so dearly. That someone will pay.
Jabber tightened the strength of the bandages, and called it that. Zanka was still out cold, shivering and face still jagged.
Jabber stood up to walk to his closet, finding his basic hoodie and sweatpants. Everything else was being washed, so he gently slid the clothes onto Zanka. This proved slightly difficult, but Jabber was able to get them on and get Zanka into his bed, covering him with his comforter, and leaning his head against the pillows. He finished it off by injecting some pain killers into his neck, and giving Zanka a soft peck on the lips.
Jabber retreated to sit down on the cold floor.
________
Zanka's eyes opened, Eyelashes fluttering once, then twice, then thrice, trying to see better. He sincerely hoped he was in the comfort of Eishia's ward, but the smell wasn't aligning with the one of disinfectants and lilies. It smelt dark, wet, and mossy, instead.
His fight or flight kicked in, and he grabbed around for his Assistaff. No where to be found. Zanka jolted upwards, rubbing his eyes and looking around in urgency. Blue eyes scanned the room, landing on a familiar dreadhead. He felt bandages restrict his movement, and a strong wave of nausea washed over him. He fell back down into the pillows.
"Where the hell am I?" Zanka snarled, looking down at those magenta eyes.
Jabber smiled lovingly.
"Well ya see, I was takin' a nice walk through the city, lookin for something shiny to pick up. I searched through them cars In that building you were in, and I found you unconcious, and bleeding from someone who wasn't me. I swear, I'll find that fucking dickhead and kill him."
Jabber's eyes glowed a purple for a split second at the last sentence.
"So I took you home and patched you up. Because only I can spill your blood." He chuckled deliriously, before standing up and plopping himself down near Zanka's purple duvet covered legs.
"How are you feeling, Zannie?"
Zanka scooted back into his pillow, a numbness traveling up his spine, as well as nervousness filling all of his pores. He could feel himself sweating as he was placed under the mercy of Jabber.
"W-why would you do something like that??" Zanka quickly stated, a cold uncertainty washing over him. He didn't know Jabber's plans, but If his guess was as good as any, it wasn't anything good.
"Because, my dear Zanka, you're mine."
Jabber's canines shone through his smile, and a loving gaze ghosted over his face. It was almost evil in nature, but something told Zanka there was a difference than the one he flashes to others. It was personalized, specially made for him, something he could keep and remember to himself.
Jabber paid no mind to the shocked Zanka laying on his bed, soaking his scent into his sheets. He decided to suggest Zanka to shower.
"You can—If you can walk— go shower."
Zanka stilled, thinking over the pros and cons. He decided he would, but upon sitting up and trying to stand, he immediately knew he wouldn't be able to run away.
Jabber caught Zanka before his head collided with the floor, and hoisted him up. The younger tryed pushing off of Jabber's warm torso, only to stumble back and almost hit himself against another peice of furniture again. Well at least they both knew Zanka wasn't a flight risk.
Jabber caught him again, stablizing him.
"Do you need me to carry you there, Zan-zan, or do you want to attempt walking??" An obvious sarcasm ran through Jabber's voice, his face lighting up in a predictable smirk. Who would've guessed, Zanka thought.
"I— fine." Zanka grimaced as he surrendered. He couldn't walk because of his severely damaged leg, and the torso gash made it hard to articulate himself. He didn't think he'd even be capable of standing in the shower.
"Alright then!" Jabber cheerfully picked Zanka up, hoisting him on his hips, Zanka's slender legs already surrounding his waist, caging him in warmly. Zanka easily melted into the other's touch, relaxing completely because there was no fight left in his limbs.
Soon enough, he was in Jabber's dingy shower, getting scorched by hot water. His back burned from flickering flame like water as he wafted the smell of Jabber's shampoo into his nose. He loved the smell. Definitely not because it was connected to Jabber, and totally because it was just a good scent, which you don't get much of on the ground. Strong fumes of deep vanilla and sandalwood filled his nose, a shiver passing through the boy's body as he rubbed the sudsy substance in.
Out of the janky little shower space, Zanka took the extra clothes, which consisted of a shirt with a faded band logo that read something like, "Mindless," and then the rest was washed off.
Zanka smelled so like Jabber when he stepped out of the bathroom, same perpetual Only-for-Jabber scowl adorning his delicate features. Jabber's still look of before shifted to a slight smile as he saw Zanka walk in, clothed in his things, smelling like him.
"You can sleep in my bed, Zan-zan!" Jabber grinned while speaking, "I can sleep in the lobby if you're uncomfy, of course..." Zanka rolled his eyes.
"Sleep in ya own bed, fool." Zanka scoffed, before going to sit on the duvet. He then murmured under his breath, "I get cold,"
Jabber got the memo, but didn't speak up, just coming to lay beside Zanka, that same dopey grin on his face.
Zanka woke up with his hands firmly planted around Jabber's waist, and his world turned upside down.