Chapter Text
There’s the aroma of sea salt and something slightly earthy in the air, and Zanka is tremendously confused.
He’s not sure when it first appeared, too busy trying to keep Jabber’s claws from even scraping him as he was, but now that he’s noticed it, it’s all he can think about. The scent is thick, almost suffocating in Zanka’s nostrils, and he finds himself inhaling deeply when he doesn’t need to just to be able to breathe properly.
It’s throwing him off his game, these deep breaths he can’t stop taking, and he’s in the middle of one when Jabber lands a kick to his stomach, sending him flying backward.
“Zankaaa…” The raider drawls, using his name rather than the nickname he’s taken a liking to, and Zanka knows that Jabber is beginning to get irritated with him. He’s too busy coughing to care, though, having landed in a way that further knocked the wind out of him. “What’s so distractin’ that you’re focusing more on that than me?” He sounds petulant, and Zanka would have laughed at the audacity were it not for the fact that the scent was only getting heavier, and it’s beginning to cloud his mind.
Getting to his knees, he pants heavily, trying to breathe around the fog that shrouds him, yet as Jabber approaches him, the scent only becomes stronger, and it takes glancing up at the raider for the pieces to click into place. His eyes widen with obvious shock and—
“Yer an omega?”
Jabber freezes, his eyes widening subtly as he looks down at Zanka, who has frozen in kind. The two blink at each other, and for a long moment, no one says anything, until—
“Ha!” Jabber bursts suddenly, doubling over with guffawing laughter that wracks his body. His arms wrap around his stomach, and he falls to his knees, tears springing to his eyes. A rush of heat spreads through Zanka, a shame hot and burning, licking at the back of his neck. He doesn’t know why Jabber is laughing, but he knows that it’s at his expense, so his fists clench. Lovely Assistaff is a mere foot away from him, and Zanka wants nothing more than to call her to him and whack Jabber over the head with it, but he refrains because there’s no one else that scent could be coming from, and though the raider is laughing at him for it, he knows his guess isn’t wrong.
When the laughing fit finally dies down, Jabber wipes the tears from his eyes, shifting to sit on the ground in front of Zanka as he says, “Are ya just now realizing that?” He tilts his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Zanka gapes at him. His jaw drops, and his eyes water with how wide they are, and he’s utterly dumbfounded. “Wha—huh? How was I supposed ta know that?!” He exclaims, pulling himself into an upright position. “Ya never said anything!”
Jabber shrugs. “Was I supposed to? It’s not like it’s all that important.” Shifting Mankira back into her ring form, he inspects his nails in search of any dirt that might have accumulated from the dust they tend to kick up during their battles. His expression has shifted into one of mild disinterest, an emotion Zanka couldn’t be farther from if he tried. If anything, he was feeling maybe a bit too much, and the emotions were tripping over each other as he tried not to stutter.
“I mean—it doesn’t, not really, but—”
“So what’s the problem? Can’t we get back to fighting? You were doing so good at first, and I was just starting to get hard…” Jabber sighs, leaning back on his palms uncaringly while Zanka chokes on his own spit.
“Quit sayin’ shit like that so casually!” He sputters, face flushing against his will. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard Jabber say such things before, but for some reason, the words were doing quite a number on him now. His chest felt oddly warm. “And d’ya think you can tone down yer scent a bit? It’s makin’ it hard to focus,” He mumbles, then immediately regrets it when Jabber’s expression shifts from one of disinterest to smug.
“Why? What’s so distractin’ about it? I mean, surely you’ve been around other omegas before, right? This ain’t your first time, is it?” Jabber shifts, tucking his knees underneath him as he leans toward Zanka. He brushes his thick locs back out of his face as he scrutinizes the cleaner, his eyes narrowed in a way that could only mean trouble. It makes Zanka’s stomach flip, makes the warmth in his chest spread out to his fingertips, and he feels the sudden, urgent desire to look away, so he holds the raider’s gaze instead.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He crosses his arms, huffing, then regrets it as it brings another whiff of that scent that Jabber seemed to be exuding in spades. It feels intentional, now, the way the scent pervades his senses, and he can’t think—
“Well, unfortunately for you, I can’t actually do anything about it.” Jabber shrugs as he leans back. “Never learned how to.” He admits, twisting the ring on his pointer finger with his thumb. There’s a faraway look in his eye that feels completely out of place on his face, but it only lasts for a mere second before he’s pinning Zanka with another smug grin. “Besides, even if I could, I wouldn’t do anythin’ about it anyway. You seem to like it.” Zanka stiffens, his breath abruptly hitching in his throat, something he knows Jabber has caught when the raider’s grin widens.
“What gave ya that impression?” Zanka asks, not sure if he wants to hear the answer.
“You mean you didn’t notice?” Jabber tilts his head again, and Zanka knows that he isn’t going to like what he’s about to hear. “Your scent’s been mixin’ with mine this whole time.”
“Zanka, are you alright?” Riyo asks when she sits down next to him at dinner a few days later. A reasonable question, considering he’s been staring blankly at his soup for the last five minutes, unmoving.
“Perfectly fine, why?” Zanka asks anyway, making no move to…well…move.
“You just…seem a bit out of it lately. Somethin’ happen on that last mission you went on? That was intercepted by Jabber at the end, wasn’t it?” Riyo puts a finger to her chin, noting the way that Zanka shivered at the mention of the raider’s name. So it was definitely Jabber’s fault that Zanka was like this.
“...Nope. Nothin’ at all.” Zanka says anyway, and Riyo sighs.
“Zanka, even if you weren’t a shit liar, your scent would have given you away anyway. It smells like a forest over here, and it’s scaring Rudo away.” She points somewhere behind her, and when Zanka follows her thumb, he finds Rudo standing nearby, looking constipated between the Team Child’s table and Zanka’s. Upon being caught, though, he straightens up and marches his way over, nearly slamming his tray down on the table in front of Zanka.
“He’s not scarin’ shit away,” Rudo mumbles, though he won’t meet Zanka’s gaze, and he shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth. Riyo chuckles, leaning back in her chair.
“Fuu, too, although I think he’d be doing that anyway, since no one’s given him the order to sit down, yet.” She points again, this time off to her right, where Fuu was hovering, standing as stiff as a board, practically paralyzed. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor, so Zanka decided to take pity on him.
The ex-raider has honestly been nothing but helpful since he was brought back to the cleaner’s HQ from the south wing, carrying out every demand made of him without complaint, even if they were ridiculous. He once went out and bought Rudo enough candy to last him a month simply because the boy asked (told) him to. After that, Rudo was essentially banned from ‘requesting’ anything of Fuu, for fear of having to deal with another incredibly bloated Rudo unable to fit through a doorway but still refusing to give up his sweets.
Releasing a sigh, Zanka motions with his head at Fuu for the ex-raider to join them, who points at himself, confusedly at first. When Zanka nods, he visibly brightens, making his way over to the table eagerly.
“Thank you so much for allowing me to sit and eat with you!” He announces rather loudly, startling a few people nearby. Once they realize that it’s Fuu, though, they move on, having gotten used to his antics. Fuu, on the other hand, goes quiet suddenly. “I…I am allowed to eat here, right?” He questions quietly, and the scent of something sweet fills the air around them.
“Of course yer allowed to eat, Fuu. We’ve never starved ya, have we?” Zanka asks as he finally grabs his spoon, lifting it to taste the soup that’s long gone cold.
“Well…no…b-but you could always change your minds—” Fuu starts, but Zanka cuts him off before he can get far.
“We won’t. Go ahead and eat, Fuu.” He orders, so Fuu nods, and he, too, begins shoveling spoonfuls of rice into his mouth, much like Rudo, who looked between the two, his eyes narrowing suddenly. Whatever thought has just occurred to him, though, he doesn’t say aloud, merely looking back at his food.
Riyo, on the other hand, hardly even looked at Fuu, keeping her gaze pinned on her best friend beside her. “So? What happened on the last mission that has you so…like this?” She motions to Zanka’s general being, and he sighs, abandoning his spoon again. He wasn’t actually all that hungry, only coming down to dinner to keep people from worrying about him, much like Riyo was doing now.
“It’s…” He starts, then pauses, his brow furrowing as he tries to figure out how to word it. His ‘revelation’—while shocking—wasn’t actually all that life-changing, in the grand scheme of things. Or, at least, not in any ways that actually mattered. Still, Zanka found that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It haunts him, that scent of sea salt and earth, so intense in his memories that it was almost as if he could still smell it if he idled for long enough. “It’s stupid,” he says eventually, shaking his head in a useless attempt to clear the thought from his head.
Riyo raises an eyebrow, clearly doubtful. “It obviously isn’t, seeing as it has you this stressed out. Come on, just tell me what he did already.” She pushes, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. Still, though, he hesitates, shaking his head again.
“No, Riyo, I’m tellin’ you, it ain’t somethin’ ya need ta worry—”
“You found out that Jabber is an omega, didn’t you?” Fuu speaks suddenly, startling everyone at the table, and when they all turn to look at him, he shrinks. “I–I can smell his scent on you. His real scent.” He explains sheepishly, attempting to meld with the chair under the weight of everyone’s heavy stares.
No one says anything for a long moment, and silence falls over the four of them, until—
“How do you know?” Zanka asks quietly. His voice and expression have fallen into a neutrality that makes Fuu blink rapidly.
“I—uh—I caught a whiff of it a few times. When—when he would go into heat and ask to fight Hii more often.” He squirms in his chair, wringing his hands and looking away. When he looks at Zanka again, whatever he finds on the cleaner’s face has him stammering, his face flushing. “N-not that he ever did! Jabber always got frustrated because Hii refused to fight him until his beat was over, so don’t worry.” Zanka realizes suddenly that Fuu is trying to calm him, and it’s here that he registers how thick his scent has become, cloying enough to drown out even Fuu’s sweetened scent of candied fruit. Clearing his throat, he tries to tone his scent down a bit, ignoring the way Riyo’s gaze burns a hole in the side of his head.
“What’s there ta be worried about? What he does during his heat is none of my business.” Zanka leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. His foot taps restlessly under the table.
Fuu peers at him for a bit longer before he looks back down at his food, figuring it's better to stuff his face rather than let his mouth get away from him again. Zanka follows suit, bringing another spoonful of cold soup to his lips. It wasn’t all that bad, if he was being honest.
Rudo, on the other hand, though he hasn’t said much at this point, now stares thoughtfully into space in front of him. “But…” He starts, putting a finger to his chin. “I thought omegas were supposed to be really kind and stuff, like Gris. Jabber doesn’t seem like that at all.” He seems to be genuinely confused when he speaks, but when he’s met with confusion right back, he blinks owlishly, shrinking into himself subtly. When no one says anything for long enough to be uncomfortable, Rudo slams his hands on the table. “Alright, I get it, that was stupid! No need to keep starin’ at me like I’m an idiot.” He huffs, his embarrassed flush worsening when Riyo covers her mouth in a useless attempt to muffle the fit of giggles that burst from her.
“No, no, it’s not stupid, it’s just—well, that is stupid, but that’s not why we’re staring at you.” Riyo manages between breaths, her shoulders shaking with the force of it. Somehow, the fact that she was attempting to hide it made it that much more mortifying.
Riyo can’t manage to gather herself enough to speak, so Zanka takes over, looking only slightly more put together.
“You think Gris is an omega?” He asks calmly, and Rudo’s brow furrows.
“Isn’t he?” He asks, as if any other answer were unfathomable.
“Nope.” Rudo’s eyes widen in shock. “Gris is an alpha. It’s probably not obvious to ya because ya haven’t presented yet, but his pheromones ain’t all that intense either. Kinda reminds me of the polish I use on Lovely Assistaff, just not as chemical. Pretty faint, ta be honest.” He sums up, but Rudo still looks stuck on the first part of his sentence.
“You mean…all alphas aren’t loud and stuff?” He sounds as though this was genuinely shocking news, and Zanka can’t help the snort that escapes him.
“Nah. I mean, I’m an alpha, and I’m not all that loud.” It was one of the few things Zanka still allowed himself to be proud of these days, not being the obnoxious sort.
Rudo raises a doubtful eyebrow at this, though. “...Are you sure? I mean, you were pretty loud when we first met, so I thought…” Zanka feels a vein pop in his forehead.
“Will ya quit bringin’ that up?!” He snarls, developing shivers of disgust at the very reminder of The Incident. “I thought I told ya never ta mention it again! And you would be loud too if—”
“Zanka,” Riyo cuts in gently, grabbing his arm. He hadn’t even realized that he’d begun to stand up. “You’re kinda proving his point right now.” Zanka blinks, coming back to himself, and finds Rudo smirking at him like the little bastard he is. Man, he couldn’t stand the kid sometimes.
“Whatever.” He drops back into his seat with a huff.
“Anyways,” Riyo continues. “About the omega thing—and technically alphas too—that’s an outdated stereotype. Your designation isn’t determined by who you are as a person, nor does it determine you. I’ve met some really loud and tough omegas, along with real quiet and kind of pathetic alphas—like Fuu here.” She points at the ex-raider, who startles, like he was hoping to go unnoticed for a bit longer. The scent of candied fruit thickens, and he squirms in his chair meekly. “My point is, there are all types of alpha, betas, and omegas out there in the world. I mean, I bet you didn’t guess that Tamsy was an alpha, did you? He’s not all that loud or brash either, so I don’t see why Jabber couldn’t be an omega.” She reasons, nodding sagely to herself, and Rudo listens eagerly, like the words were worth their weight in gold.
“A-also…” Fuu chimes in, looking torn between wanting to finish his sentence and regretting having spoken. “Jabber isn’t always…the way he is, I guess. Sometimes—before heats, I think—he gets really…touchy. And kind of…mellow, maybe? He chills out on being as aggressive as he always is and becomes kind of…clingy? Or at least, more clingy than usual.” His every word errs with his hesitation, not helped by the fact that everyone at the table is gawking at him as if he’s grown another head in the span of a single second. “I–I mean—I wasn’t there for too long, so I don’t know if he’s always like that before a heat, but–”
“Clingy how?” Zanka asks suddenly, breaking the silence he had fallen into. His mind rifles through memories of every fight he’s had with Jabber, suddenly honing in on all the times Jabber seemed to move more slowly than usual. He was still absurdly quick, of course, but during those times, Zanka would land just a few more hits than usual on the raider. The timing of it was so inconsistent that Zanka knew it was a matter of coincidence rather than the result of his training. An upsetting realization to come to at the time, for certain, but necessary to keep him from gaining more confidence than he deserved.
Fuu’s squirming picks up, his eyes flitting constantly to Zanka for merely a second before darting away again. “Well, he’d start following me around more often than usual, and not just to ask to fight Hii. He’d start giving out hugs more often to whoever would accept them, which, I think, was just me and Bundus, and sometimes Cthoni, but only for a little bit before she would get fed up with him again, and I think Noerde allowed it once—and probably for just a second—but I’m pretty sure she kicked him right after that—”
“So Jabber gets cuddly before a heat?” Riyo cuts him off, putting her hand to her chin. “Huh. So it seems like not even he can resist certain instincts, huh?” She voices her thoughts aloud, turning to Zanka with a grin that knows more than it should. “Guess that makes a lot of sense, huh, Zanka?” Her head is tilted, and there’s a sudden uptick in the smell of freshly washed clothes, which, at one point, Zanka would have enjoyed. Having been friends with Riyo for as long as he has now, though, he knows that it was merely a portent. Truly, a sign of his impending doom.
“I know I’m gonna regret askin’, but what’re you talkin’ about, Riyo?” His voice is flat, as if he were being forced to ask rather than doing so of his own free will. Truly, he shouldn’t have entertained her, but he let his mouth get away from him again.
“I’m just saying, Jabber’s always been real clingy with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of that was his heat coming soon.” Tilting her chair back, Riyo puts her legs up on the table, pushing her long-empty plate aside. Zanka would have scolded her, but Fuu was chiming in again before he could, and Zanka really wished he would stop.
“Plus, he scented you.” He adds, smiling easily, as if this were something to be happy about. Little does he know, Zanka’s entire world has given out from under his feet.
If there were one aspect in which Zanka didn’t disappoint his family, it would be his being an alpha. Unfortunately for them, he had left the Hell Guard before he presented, so they weren’t even able to witness—what they felt was—one of the most important moments in his life.
Still, his family, their words, they haunted him. Though it wasn’t explicitly said, if his designation were anything but alpha, he would have earned their ire (despite it being completely out of his control). While the Hell Guard accepted anyone regardless of their designation, the Nijiku family did not produce betas, and they certainly didn’t produce omegas.
With the weight of their expectations on his shoulders, he carried himself as though his designation were already decided. He was going to be an alpha, obviously, and that was that. He couldn’t afford to be anything else.
Then he leaves them to join the cleaners, and suddenly, it doesn’t matter as much. The Hell Guard accepted anyone regardless of designation, but the Cleaners treated this as if it were words to live by. When he joins Team Akuta, the first spar he ever partakes in with his newfound jinki is with Riyo, and she beats him without breaking a sweat. Were he still in the Hell Guard, word would have gotten around that he was bested by a mere beta, and his sister would have had words for him. With the Cleaners, all he gets is a clap on the back and the words, ‘pretty good for someone with as little experience with their jinki as you.’ It wasn’t a reprimand, and that was what was throwing Zanka off. The first time it happened, he had thought that he had surely misunderstood, and that the heavy expectations would come later. When they never do, it’s as though he’s taken a proper breath of air for the first time in a long time.
The Nijiku family did not produce anything but alphas, and they certainly didn’t produce disappointments. The Cleaners don’t expect anything of him but to be the best he can.
When Zanka presented, the day had begun as usual. He rose with the sun, took care of Lovely Assistaff, trained, then showered as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and Zanka couldn’t say he felt much different from the day before. Maybe a bit more irritable than usual, but not enough for it to be noticeable. Then, when he and Riyo head out to run some errands for the other cleaners, a sleazy man brushes a hand against Riyo’s hip with much less than pure intentions, given the look on his face, and Zanka breaks the man’s fingers without a second thought.
As it turned out, Zanka’s instincts had registered Riyo as someone part of his ‘pack’, and anyone with malicious intent toward her would feel like a personal attack on himself. According to Semiu, something similar happened with Enjin when Riyo had first joined Team Akuta. Despite his supposed dislike of children, Enjin seemed to have a penchant for picking them up, and his instincts had claimed Riyo as one of his own almost the moment he met her.
Somehow, despite there being two alphas on the team, the thought of tension between them was nonexistent, as Enjin, being the oldest, held the title as the leader of their ‘pack’, and Zanka would listen to anything the man told him, regardless.
Riyo didn’t much mind having two alphas as part of her newfound makeshift family, rather enjoying the privileges that came with having two alpha teammates around all the time. Enjin had clapped Zanka on the back after the ordeal that followed his presentation, secretly praising him for punishing the sleazy man despite the cleaner’s policy of not harming humans.
Shortly after the situation, Zanka’s scent had come through, fully forming into what it is today: woodsy with vague hints of something fruity. It melded perfectly with Riyo’s scent of clean clothing and Enjin’s scent of wood shavings, and the three were around each other so often that it was inevitable that they’d end up smelling like each other. Often, it was the case that it was hard to tell their scents apart.
So, when Fuu tells him that he could smell Jabber on him, it was as if a hook had been thrown straight through his chest, latching onto his heart and threatening to pull it from between his lungs if he thought about things for too long.
Jabber doesn’t know how to control his scent. The raider had told him so during their last fight—Jabber’s scent clinging to him wasn’t intentional by any means, yet this only seemed to make it harder for Zanka to bear. Sea salt and something earthy, soft in a way that Jabber decidedly isn’t, adhered to his clothing like a particularly sticky trash wind. It stays with him every second of the day, right under his nose, taunting him. It’s been a week since he last saw Jabber now, and the scent still has yet to fade, no matter how many showers he takes, no matter how much trash he wades through. Its declaration is loud, bold in the way Jabber always is. Fitting yet irritating in the same vein.
In one idle moment, Zanka finds himself wondering if Jabber smells like him. When the thought doesn’t upset him the way it should, he stops thinking about it.
The worst part about all of this, though, was that he didn’t hate Jabber’s true scent.
It was a truth he had to admit to himself when he caught himself sniffing his clothing one too many times, berating himself for it immediately afterward.
It was only because his true scent is just so different from what he usually smelled like, Zanka tells himself. Most times, when they fought, Jabber smelled like metal and blood and whatever poison he had tested on himself that day if it had a scent, and they’d clashed so many times that it was only natural for him to get used to it. He could hardly be blamed for being so caught off guard by a scent so unlike the one he was (unfortunately) familiar with.
He doesn’t have the mind to think about everything else that came with even the idea of Jabber scenting him intentionally. It’s a line of thinking he doesn’t really want to go down, so he doesn’t. That time would be much better spent training with his Lovely Assistaff, keeping up his synchronization with her. He can’t allow their wavelengths to become uneven, lest they move any worse than the parts of a well-oiled machine. The next time they clash with Jabber and Mankira, it needs to be indistinguishable where Zanka ended, and Lovely Assistaff began.
They couldn’t be in anything less than top condition for Jabber and Mankira.
Jabber has discovered a new poison, and he wields it like a third arm.
Sea salt and sage. That is what pours from Jabber’s scent glands, heady like a perfume. His claws are filled with none of their usual toxins, and their battle becomes one of attrition rather than keep away.
Jabber is testing him. It became obvious when, after he nicked Zanka with one of his claws, none of the usual excruciating pain followed it. Zanka had tensed, anticipating it, but then it never happened, and when he met Jabber’s gaze, the raider was observing him quietly.
He hasn’t spoken nearly as much as he usually does, choosing silence over his usual crude remarks. Despite this, his grin stays the same, sharp and heavy. His eyes are clear—they always are, but now their weight is ponderous on Zanka’s being, stripping him down to his core, seeing him for all he is. Jabber reads him like an open book, and Zank lets it fuel him.
The raider even moves differently. It’s almost like he slithers at times, the way he seems to slink in and out of Zanka’s range, and it’s infuriating.
Jabber is playing with him—when is he not?—but Zanka wants to prove himself. He wants to prove he’s even worthy of being played with, and the desire overwhelms him. His grip on Lovely Assistaff tightens, his feet plant themselves harder into the ground, his stance widens, and he’s ready.
Zanka won’t allow himself to waste Jabber’s time again.
Their battle today is one of attrition, and Jabber tests him. He wants to know how long Zanka will last under the full effect of his true scent, especially stifling now that he knows how much Zanka likes it. Every breath Zanka takes will be of him, and Jabber wants to know how long the cleaner will last before he gives in to it.
He keeps himself out of reach, dancing out of Zanka’s range in a way he knows will frustrate the cleaner, and his grin widens when he spots the telltale signs of Zanka’s vexation. His heavy exhales, the harsh furrow between his brow, his whitened knuckles gripping Lovely Assistaff like a lifeline—Jabber takes it all in. Zanka’s anger is a drug that he’s addicted to; he relishes the ire in Zanka’s gaze.
Zanka fights harder than usual, becomes less calculated. His moves begin to mirror Jabber’s, frenzied and eager. It makes a suffocating warmth bloom in the raider’s chest, makes his scent thicken, if the way that Zanka’s inhales becomes deeper is any indication. The cleaner fights harder, makes every hit he lands on Jabber count, and Jabber knows he is alive, for he feels every single one. He feels his fractured rib, feels his sprained ankle, feels the burn in his thighs and calves, feels the pounding in his temple. He doesn’t use the toxins in his claws because he wants this to last as long as possible, wants his scent to be the only thing that paralyzes Zanka.
He wants to make sure he’s impossible to forget in Zanka’s eyes.
Their battle ends with both of them growing tired, and Jabber gives in first, dropping to the ground with a pleasantly exhausted huff. His eyes flutter shut, and he tilts his head back, nose pointed up to the sky. It bears the unblemished skin of his long neck, and the sight abruptly weakens Zanka’s knees, so he, too, falls to the ground.
“You did so damn good today, Zan-Zan.” Jabber sighs blissfully, tilting his head slightly to aim a pleased look at the cleaner, who feels an inexplicable surge of pride bloom in his chest. “I’m impressed. You kept up with me for longer than expected.” Zanka clears his throat, glancing away from the raider. His cheeks are flushed with exertion, nothing more.
“It was only ‘cause you were goin’ easy on me. Didn’t even use yer poisons.” Zanka huffs out, sniffing with disdain as his pride is suddenly extinguished by the reminder of his own doing. “Am I not worth it no more or somethin’?” He can’t help but ask, feeling foolish the minute the words leave his mouth.
Jabber waves a hand mildly. “Nah, man, it’s nothin’ like that. Just wanted to try somethin’ different out today, and I gotta say, I’m pretty happy with the results.” Jabber opens his eyes to give Zanka a lazy, pleased look. “You did so good for me today, Zan-Zan.” His voice is almost sultry as he speaks, sending shivers that race violently up and down Zanka’s spine. Unbidden, the cleaner's flush deepens, a heat in his chest stealing his breath, and he feels trapped by the raider’s gaze. It was always hard to look away from Jabber’s eyes once Zanka caught them, but now, it felt as though he’d be especially foolish to break their held gazes.
Jabber watches him as if he’s worth watching.
“Just…shut yer trap already,” Zanka responds lamely, though he holds Jabber’s stare. “Next time, I wanna fight ya for real. I’m not goin’ easy on ya just because yer an omega, got it?”
Jabber’s responding grin is downright devilish. “I’d kill ya if you did.”