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It’s been like this for a couple months now. They call, they meet, they fight, and they leave, repeat. They don’t check each other for wounds, they don’t make sure the other is okay. Zanka leaves her to bleed out, and Jabber does the same. Because that's how it is. That’s how they work.
They have faith the other won’t die. Not that easily, at least. No matter what condition either of them are left in, they will always show up the following week. You could call it loyalty, but Jabber isn’t sure that’s the right word. But she can’t lie about how comforting it sounds.
No matter what Jabber does to Zanka, she's going to keep coming back. And no matter how wounded and hurt Zanka leaves Jabber, Jabber knows she will always come crawling back to Zanka- time and time again. They’re the only ones who understand this side of the other, the only ones to stick around. It's the one thing they have to rely on. Each other.
It all started a couple months ago. Jabber was browsing the stores littered around one of the cities, looking for more equipment to store her poisons. Zanka had found her, and dragged her into an alleyway to beat her ass. Zanka lost. Of course she did. Jabber snuck her blood into Zanka’s collar, and Zanka’s into her own. Before she knew it, Zanka was calling her for a rematch. They met, they fought, and shortly after Zanka called her again. Eventually, they stopped needing to schedule it, they just knew when the other was itching for a fight through whatever connection they formed. All the blood spilled made them a little psychic, she supposes.
But no matter how deep their connection is, they have never, ever, rushed to the other’s side after landing a considerably hard blow to the head.
Which is just what Zanka is doing.
Jabber squints through the dim light of the alleyway, making out the flickering of Zanka’s bright blue eyes. She hears Assistaff’s wooden version set down beside her, and Zanka’s hands cupping the back of her head. There’s a pounding in Jabber’s head, like her skull was cracked open. And considering how hard Zanka hit her, it might as well be. Zanka’s saying something, but the ringing in Jabber’s head cancels it out. Her vision is spinning, and she feels like she wants to throw up her guts. But Zanka just looks at her, eyebrows scratched in concern. She’s brushing away Jabber’s locs, and her eyes dart from the blood dripping down Jabber’s brow back to Jabber’s eyes. She looks so worried. It’s sweet.
…wait. Zanka doesn’t do this. Zanka beats her ass, then leaves. Zanka doesn’t hold her head, doesn’t ask are you okay? She grits her teeth and tries to jerk her head away from Zanka, but when she tries, her neck screams at her, holy shit it hurts! She crunches out giggles, Zanka got her good!
But when Zanka looks down at her, she finds herself forgetting the pain- forgetting where she is- forgetting-
Zanka sits beside the bed, head in her hands. She groans, tapping her foot anxiously against the ground. The uncomfortable office chair doesn’t help. She should leave, just get out of here before Jabber wakes up. Before Jabber remembers. She doesn’t know what got into her. Just an hour or two ago, she landed a good hit on Jabber, finally, but the high of her victory was ruined by concern. Concern that she hit Jabber too hard. Jabber had fallen to the ground, and hadn’t gotten up. It was scary. Her eyes still feel a little sore and red from crying. Over Jabber.
Jabber lays on a bed next to the wall, one of the only beds in the cramped room. There’s a window right beside her, illuminating the small space. There's cabinets and counters around the wall behind Zanka, all strewn with tools and equipment Zanka couldn’t put a name to even if she tried. She had dragged Jabber to the closest doctor. Unfortunately, he also happened to be a stupidly expensive doctor. She’s gonna kill Jabber for making her spend so much money.
He hadn’t asked questions when she dragged Jabber into his office, but she could tell he wanted to get Zanka to pay for more than just Jabber’s treatment. She refused to entertain that though, she had Eisha back at home- after all. And she could handle a couple of nicks and bruises. Thankfully, Jabber hadn’t managed to inject her with anything super paralytic or hallucinogenic.
Zanka sighs. This is not how their fight was supposed to go. Zanka wanted to gloat in her win, dance around a little, before abandoning Jabber on the ground and heading home. But no- she just had to rush to Jabber’s side. She just had to carry her annoying ass to the doctor, didn’t she? Zanka doesn’t know why she cares. Jabber hasn’t ever done that to her, hasn’t ever offered to patch up her wounds, hasn't shown any kind of concern. The only thing Jabber’s ever worried about is whether or not Zanka’s hitting her hard enough.
Zanka remembers just the other week, when she was laid out on the outskirts of a town, her leg shredded from Mankira. Jabber had laughed, told her the date of their next fight, then abandoned her. No aftercare, no worry, no help.
Zanka scowls, glaring at the unconscious girl in bed. Jabber’s chest rises softly with each breath, the thin sheets of the hospital bed draped over her sleeping form. She’s only in her underclothes, the raider uniform discarded- folded at the foot of her bed (via Zanka. She didn’t like the idea of the doctor undressing Jabber, so she took up the responsibility of figuring out how the hell to get Jabber’s uniform off. And seriously, why does she have so many damn layers??)
Jabber never would have done this. So why- why was Zanka so adamant on making sure Jabber was okay? It pisses her off. It pisses her off so bad.
The doctor wrapped Jabber’s head the best he could through her thick hair, so now Jabber is adorning white bandages circling around her scalp and forehead. It’s kinda cute. The doctor even went out of his way to fix up all the other lovely wounds Zanka left her, much to Zanka’s dismay. She was kinda hoping he’d leave all the other cuts and bruises alone. Zanka just likes the idea of permanently marking Jabber, having her stuck with proof that they collided. It’s a little comforting knowing that no matter how hard Jabber would try, she’s never going to forget Zanka. Zanka shudders and pushes those thoughts away. She’s got bigger issues to deal with right now.
Like how she’s going to explain herself to Ms. Sleeping Beauty when she wakes up.
“...hmph?”
Damn it.
Jabber yawns, stretching her arms above her head, arching her back. She flinches at the stretch and strain of her muscles. She sits up and rubs the sleep out of her eyes with the back of her palm. It’s kind of cute. She opens her eyes, and turns to look straight at Zanka.
Zanka sits up, trying very hard to NOT look like she was just staring at Jabber. Her eyes dart to look at literally anything other than her, like the suddenly very interesting window.
“Zanka- didja you take me home? Geez- buy a girl a drink first.” Jabber slurs, and Zanka refuses to look at her lopsided grin. Despite trying very hard to avoid eye contact, Zanka turns to look back at Jabber. She looks very, very out of it. Her eyes are squinting through the light of the room, and her posture is slouched and exhausted. Must be whatever the doctor injected her with. She sways a little in her bed, like there's a critter running around in her skull, forcing her to move with it. She does not look good.
No- She looks good. Annoyingly good. Zanka hates it.
“What?- I dragged your ass to a doctor before you bled out and died.” Zanka shoots back, much more aggressively than she was hoping. She crosses one leg over the other, leaning back in her chair, arms folded over her chest.
“Oh really?” Jabber’s already lopsided grin grows much bigger, yet it seems a little too strained. “Did ya’ beat me up real good?”
“Shuddup. You need to lay back down though- doctor’s orders.” Zanka commands. She’s not sure why, but she feels a little guilty about Jabber’s head injury. “Unless you want to get whatever you gotten yourself into to worsen.”
Jabber groans before laying back down. Zanka perks with surprise, that was much easier than she thought it would be. Jabber seems to be pretty… mushy right now.
“So didja’ win?” Jabber asks, eyes fluttering closed. Did she always have such long eyelashes?
“Huh?”
“The fight. We fought right? No one else could’ve hurt me this bad.” Jabber muses. Zanka ignores the pride bubbling up in her chest at Jabber’s not-quite praise. Jabber smiles, eyes still closed. Like she’s trying to imagine the conflict that went down just hours before. She looks way too happy right now- and it’s pissing Zanka off.
“You don’t remember?” Zanka asks. This is weird. Did she forget how laid there, our fingers interlaced. We were so close, and all the things I told her and all the things she told me. She said she loved-
Oh god.
Zanka thanks whoever is listening.
Jabber doesn’t remember.
Zanka can’t help the stupid grin spreading across her face. She has so, so many ideas.
“Whaaatt? We didn’t fight. Don’t you remember? You feel down some stairs like a complete idiot.” Zanka emphasizes the idiot. She’s trying so- so hard to suppress a laugh. This is just TOO funny. “Landed right FLAT on your face.”
Jabber frowns, opening an eye to look at Zanka. A beat passes, and she bursts out laughing. It’s sharp and cruel, but Zanka can’t help how it goes straight to her heart. “I don’t get this many wounds from falling down no flight of stairs. And you look pretty busted up too- something ain’t adding up, Zan-zan!” Jabber grins again, adding a little tune to Zanka’s name.
“We fought then you fell down a flight of stairs. I dragged your unconscious ass to the doctor after.” Zanka corrects, though she knows her argument isn’t believable anymore. Doesn’t matter. Jabber’s look of confusion is worth it. “It was hilarious.”
“Okay- whatever you say dude.” Jabber hums, laying her head back down. She isn’t convinced, but doesn’t pry anymore. “Man, my head hurts like a bitch. You must’ve hit me- sorry- I must have FELL pretty hard.” Jabber coons. Zanka rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop smiling.
“Yeah you did.” Zanka agrees.
Right as Jabber goes to speak again- the door behind Zanka creaks open. Zanka turns to see the very overpriced doctor walk in, clipboard in hand. He’s got wisps of white air adorning his bald head, and some very pricey looking garbs. Watches, multiple watches, decorate his wrists, and rings cover his fingers. Like some sort of weird knock off Mankira. Zanka feels a little insulted by it.
“Jabber! Good to see you awake.” He says, walking up to stand beside Zanka. He even smells like paper money. Zanka scrunches her nose. “How are you feeling?”
“Just fine, doctor.” Jabber deadpans, very uninterested in entertaining him.
The doctor doesn't respond, spending a painfully long moment scribbling things down onto the paper, with an absurdly nice looking pen. Zanka groans in annoyance.
“I’d suggest you rest for the next week or so, to help with the healing process of your concussion.” He says finally, looking up from his paper.
Jabber frowns. “Concussion?”
“Correct. You got hit in the head pretty badly, so you’ve got yourself a mild concussion.” The doctor explains, tapping his pen against the clipboard in mild annoyance. “Maybe don’t go lookin’ for fights, and you won't find yourself hurt.” He mumbles snarkily. “The pain meds should keep most of the nausea and pain at bay for now- though.”
“Awe man.” Jabber sighs- probably wanting to feel the side effects of the concussion at full force.
“Thankfully, Ms. Eyebrows over here dragged up to my doorstep before you suffered any real damage. The worst you’re gonna suffer is dizziness and minor memory loss for now.”
Jabber bats her eyelashes. “Isn’t Zanka just the best?”
Zanka rolls her eyes, turning to the doctor, “How much to keep her here till she’s better?” She asks. Anything to keep away from Jabber, away from that bed.
“About seventy thousand galla.”
Zanka blinks.
“...how much?”
“seventy-”
She’s on her feet, grabbing the doctor’s hand in a forceful shake. “Well would you look! Jabber’s all better- guess we better get going!!”
Jabbers giggling as Zanka pries her out of bed, practically throwing her over Zanka’s shoulder. She snatches the raider uniform, before rushing out.
“Wait! You still owe me for-”
The front door slams shut before Zanka hears the rest.
Jabber is slung over Zanka’s shoulder, cackling like crazy as they burst out into the bustling city. It’s midday still, and the bright sun burns Zanka’s eyes.
Zanka rushes down the street, unable to control the grin on her face. She dodges the pedestrians, yet still knocks into and shoulders people as she runs. She feels so evil, so scandalous, and it’s awesome! People are calling out as she pushes past them- and she hears the doctor still shouting behind her. Zanka hears herself laughing along with Jabber as she ducks behind an alleyway once she feels she’s out of range..
She tries to be gentle as she sets Jabber back on her feet, but the girl still falls back into the brick wall behind her. She’s still got laughing spilling from her cracked, bloody lips, and a giant grin on her face. Zanka’s looking straight into Jabber’s eyes, squinting from smiling, and before her cheeks redden she jerks her eyes away to look at anything else. She still remembers all the things Jabber said to her while she was delirious from a recent head injury. Their proximity.
She sits down beside Jabber, making out what Jabber is saying in between her labored wheezes. “Zan-zan!” She giggles- “I didn’t know you were a criminal!” She shouts a little too loud, and Zanka’s hand shoots out to cover her mouth. She shoots a look around to see if anyone heard that, but thankfully, nobody comes rushing towards her with a bat and handcuffs.
“Don’t say that so loud!! I just- couldn’t afford it!” Zanka hisses, only for Jabber to lick the hand covering her mouth. Zanka yelps, jerking her hand away. She wipes the saliva on Jabber’s raider uniform folded in her lap. It’s oddly domestic. “Yer’ disgustin’.” She groans, and Jabber just shoots her a lopsided grin.
“Aren’t ya’ supposed to be the rich kid? Nijikus are rich right-”
“Did you forget how I was cut off? No more daddy’s money for me.” Zanka hisses. Jabber just giggles.
“Well- if you’re all done playing nurse- I’m gonna start heading back home.” Jabber announces, trying to pull herself onto her feet. But as she braces a hand against the wall and gets up on wobbly knees, her feet give out beneath her. Her sense of balance is way off. “Dammit-” She grunts in frustration, falling back down. She mindlessly puts a hand on her head, cursing to herself. “Damn concussion-”
Jabber huffs, looking up to Zanka. “Welp- see you again next week. If I can make it home.” Jabber breathes out a soft laugh. “Geez Zanka- you really did a number on me- didn’t ya? Everything hurts so bad.”
Zanka stays silent- her moral compass spinning like crazy.
She knows Jabber can’t possibly make it home like this. Jabber flinches at every shift of her muscles, and can’t even get herself to her feet. She couldn’t afford a ride, no money on her, and walking home is out of the question. Not when she can’t defend herself.
So what the hell do I do?
Easy, Zanka leaves her ass in the dust. Walks away, and hopes that Jabber finds her way home. Helping her would ruin this. Jabber hates that kind of thing- gentleness. But what if she can’t make it back home?
While in the academy, she learned all about different wounds and conditions. Concussions being one of them. There’s no way in hell Jabber’s gonna make it home with one.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere like that.” Zanka scoffs, standing up.
“Like what?”
“All hurt- there’s no way yer getting home.” Zanka explains, trying very hard to sound matter-of-fact and not concerned. “Not in one piece at least.”
Jabber rolls her eyes. “I’ve been scraped up millions of times before. Didn’t die then, and I’m not gonna die now.”
“But you haven’t had a concussion before.” Zanka shoots, crossing her arms.
“Okay- and? That don’t mean nothin’.” Jabber grits out as she tries to stand up again, now both hands braced against the wall, trying to pry herself up to her feet. “Stop actin’ all worried about me. I ignored you taking me to the doctor- but this?. It’s fucking weird, Zanka.” Jabber hisses, yelping as she loses her balance once again.
But before she hits the ground- Zanka’s hand shoots out, grabbing hold of Jabber’s forearm. Before she can protest, Zanka swings that arm over her shoulder, helping Jabber stand up right. “The hell- get offa me!” Jabber protests- trying to get free from Zanka’s grip. Unfortunately for her, Zanka’s got a hand on her waist, keeping her from falling back down. Her hand fits just right above Jabber’s hip, like they’ve done this before. Zanka ignores how painfully close they are right now. How she can practically feel Jabber’s heartbeat.
“Where do ya live?” Zanka interrupts, starting to walk Jabber out of the dingy alleyway.
“You’re not taking me home! Stop with this soft shit!”
Zanka digs her fingers into the bruises on Jabber’s side. Her protests die off into pained wines.
“Where. Do. You. Live.” Zanka hisses through gritted teeth, digging her nails into the skin.
Jabber doesn’t respond, just looks up at Zanka, eyebrows scrunched, and pretty eyes wide in pain. Her lips are parted mid-whimper, and Zanka can’t stop staring. But that only lasts for a moment, before she feels the skin break a little underneath her nails. Jabber gasps.
“In the town over- short walk- edge of town- first floor of an apartment- ” Jabber groans out, leaning into the hand at her side, pressing into her bruises. “Zanka…” She murmurs.
Zanka jerks her hand away before she makes any more bad choices. She didn’t even notice her own breathing growing more labored.
Jabber whimpers at the loss of contact.
“Fuckin’ freak.” Zanka mumbles, hauling her forward. Zanka keeps her grip steady, but her racing heart doesn’t make it easy.
She’s got to get a grip.
Jabber stumbles inside her small apartment, flopping over her couch. Everything hurts, and Jabber feels herself relishing in the sore stretch and pull of her muscles. Pain medication must’ve worn off.
The walk home was hell- nearly every other step betraying her. Zanka thankfully did most of the heavy lifting, practically dragging Jabber through the streets.
Not to mention the many, many times they nearly got lost. All thanks to Jabber’s very keen sense of direction. Jabber rolls onto the couch, exhaling as she sinks into the worn-in cushions. “Home sweet home…” Jabber murmurs into the cushions- taking in the pungent scent of her apartment.
Everything still hurts, and intense nausea wracks her body. She feels she might throw up at any given moment. She lolls her head over to glance at Zanka.
Zankas standing awkwardly at the door, eyes flicking from Jabber to the rest of the room- like she’s looking for an out. Like she’s ready to bolt at the drop of a hat. When she notices Jabber staring, her resolve hardens.
“Don’t die on me.” Zanka says, before trying to turn her heel and leave. Unfortunately for her, Jabber heaves onto a nearby trashcan before she can make it far.
“...”
Zanka sighs and steps back into the apartment. “Fuck this..” she groans, but still holds out a hand for Jabber to take.
Jabber can’t help smiling.
“Let's get you to the bathroom.” Zanka says, helping Jabber back up.
Jabber spends however long just gagging up saliva into the toilet, Zanka beside her, holding her long locs back. She chooses not to acknowledge the gentle circles Zanka rubs into her back, the sensation strangely familiar. All the energy she had felt drained completely out of her.
Her head is spinning and everything feels a little fuzzy. Slowly, she’s been realizing worsening symptoms, and it’s very much not fun. The cold tiles of the bathroom floor dig into her bare knees, and she feels goosebumps under Zanka’s touch. But she doesn’t protest Zanka’s closeness, not when she’s thankful for the warmth.
Everything spins, and she feels nauseous to no end. Eventually, when her stomach stops trying to crawl up her throat, she forces herself to stand up.
“Goin’ to… lay down..” She murmurs, bracing a hand on the sink counter, ignoring Zanka’s protest. Without Zanka’s help, Jabber stumbles through the living room and into her disaster of a room. The lights are thankfully off, only the light of a setting sun illuminating the room through the single window.
Laying down face first on her bed, Jabber groans into her pillow. Her head has never hurt this bad, but the cold air of her room soothes her pains. She hears the soft steps of Zanka trailing after her and into the room, and turns her head over from the pillow to look at Zanka. She stands awkwardly in the room, unsure of whether or not to enter. Funnily enough, Zanka even brought Assistaff with her. How cute.
“I’m going to get going- Uhm-” Zanka fidgets with her words. “Feel better.” Jabber tries to grin at Zanka, kicking her feet back and forth like a schoolgirl. “Not going to tuck me in? Don’t be rude- Zanka!” Jabber coos, “That’d definitely make me feel better.”
Zanka rolls her eyes, setting Assistaff against the wall, before stamping up to Jabber. Jabber’s eyes go wide as she motions for Jabber to get up.
“Huh..?” Jabber dumbfounds. Why isn’t Zanka leaving? “What are you doin’?”
“Move. Get up so I get you under the sheets.” Zanka growls, motioning again for Jabber to get up. “Unless you’d rather I just leave ya’ alone like this.”
Yes! Leave- go! Jabber tries to say, but her body scuffles up and off the bed instead, and watches as Zanka pulls back the covers, and beckons Jabber into the bed.
“C’mon. Get in.” Zanka commands.
This is all too much. There’s no way she’s actually about to get tucked into the bed by Zanka. But Jabber complies, and crawls into the bed, awkwardly laying down flat on her back. Zanka flings the sheets back over Jabber, and rearranges the pillows to nestle around Jabber’s head.
It’s very, very comfortable. Annoyingly so.
“Anything else?” Zanka asks, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring down at Jabber.
Yes, leave me alone and never come back.
But when Jabber opens her mouth- those aren’t the words that come out.
“A glass of water?” She asks. Much too politely.
Zanka huffs, and leaves Jabber alone in bed while she goes to fetch water. There's rummaging and glass sounds from the kitchen, and Jabber hopes she hasn’t knocked anything over. Only a couple moments later, she returns with a cup in hand. When she brings it up to Jabber’s face, she can see the measuring lines adorning the side.
“Is that a measuring cup?” Jabber giggles. It's the graduated cylinder Jabber uses for experiments.
“I couldn’t find anything else! Your kitchen is a fuckin’ mess! All covered in plants and vials an’ shit!” Zanka shoots back. “Just drink it!” She shoves the flask back into Jabber’s face- face burning.
Jabber bursts out laughing, but a ringing in her head stops her. She leans back into the pillows, groaning. Her head feels like it’s being split open- it hurts so, so bad.
“Here- drink.” Zanka murmurs, bringing the glass up to Jabber’s lips. Only when the cold liquid hits her mouth does she realize just how thirsty she was. Zanka sucks in a sharp breath as old water drips down her chin, and soaks her shirt. Jabber doesn't care, savoring the feeling of something settling in her stomach. When Zanka pulls the glass away, Jabber is able to get a good look at Zanka’s face.
Zanka looks absolutely red. Her eyes are wide, and mouth slightly agape. She looks horrified, wait- no, she looks transfixed. She hurriedly puts the glass down on a bedside table and retreats back to the door, grabbing for Assistaff on her way out.
“Leaving!” Is all she says as she steps out the bedroom door, not even sparing Jabber a look back. But before she can make her escape, Jabber stops her.
“Wait!” Jabber shouts, her head ringing from the volume. “Don’t-”
Zanka freezes, and Jabber can swear Zanka shudders a little as she turns around, and stalks back into the room.
“What? What else is it?” Zanka hisses, voice dripping with frustration.
Jabber’s mind goes blank. She didn’t think that far- didn’t think Zanka would actually listen.
“Uh-” She starts.
“Well?” Zanka shoots.
“Uhm can you…” She trails off, wracking her brain for any kind of request. Anything to keep Zanka from leaving.
“Can I what?” Zanka rolls her eyes, “Spit it out.”
“Can you lay down with me?”
Zanka stares.
“Can you lay dow-”
“I HEARD YOU!” Zanka shouts.
Jabber forces a grin on her face, anything to hide her embarrassment. She knows what Zanka will say, No weirdo I’m leaving bye don’t die then she’ll walk away and Jabber can forget about this whole day-
“Move over.” Zanka huffs.
That’s not what she expected at all.
And Jabber isn’t supposed to move over, and make room for Zanka to crawl into the bed beside her.
But here they are, laying together in bed, just as the setting sun covers them in darkness. Zanka might be talking, but Jabber can’t tell over her own labored breathing and racing heart. Too bizarre- too much. She still lays flat on her back, refusing to move. Not even a little. This isn’t intimate in the slightest, she tries to convince herself.
“-abber? Jabber?” She hears Zanka saying. “Hello?” Jabber turns her head over to look at Zanka, who ended up being much too close than she anticipated. She can feel Zanka’s breath on her face, and take in her body warmth. But she refuses to give away her surprise.
“Awe- are you worried about me or somethin’?” Jabber coos, smiling. “I’m flattered.”
Zanka ignores her. “Remember anythin’ yet? Doctor said it should be back by now.”
“Don’t worry about that man. I remember all I need- you beating my ass.”
Zanka rolls her eyes, but Jabber can still hear a soft sigh of relief. “Yeah whatever.” She mumbles- before scooting herself closer to Jabber. Her thigh bumps into Jabber’s.
Jabber yelps- immediately retreating closer to the wall. “Hey! Back!”
“I’m cold! You keep your room fuckin’ freezing!” Zanka protests, but thankfully stops moving.
“Not my problem- keep to your side!” Jabber shouts.
Zanka groans, “You’re the one who wanted me here. Move, or I’m leaving. I’m not freezing to death in my sleep tonight.
Jabber can’t even register how cold her room is, not when her face feels like its on fucking fire.
“...I’m not moving.” Jabber grumbles.
“Fine- stay there. See if I care.” Zanka hisses. “Don’t complain when I freeze.”
Jabber huffs in response- and stays right where she is.
But as the moment drags on, she grows to notice her own icy limbs. Suddenly she’s all too aware of the coldness of her room. She can feel the heat radiating off of Zanka, but it’s too far to provide her any warmth.
Without a word, Jabber slides herself towards Zanka under the sheets, as silently as possible. She feels Zanka jolt as their thighs touch. “I’m jus’ cold.” Jabber mumbles as she nuzzles a little closer, ignoring all the alarm bells going off in her head. She just wants to be warm, she tells herself.
Zanka hums in response, and turns over to face away from Jabber, forcing the two into a spooning position. Her back is now flat against Jabber’s chest. Jabber freezes, unsure of where to put her hands. This is weird, way too weird. Suddenly she feels too warm, too much.
She settles on laying her hand across Zanka’s waist, keeping her mouth shut. She feels Zanka exhale, and can feel her racing heart through the thin shirts they’re wearing. They’re too close. She needs to break the tension, right now.
“You’re so tense. You wanted me to move.” Jabber coos into Zanka ear. She can feel how Zanka shudders as the feeling of her breath on the side of her face.
“I said move- not this.” Zanka growls, but there’s no bite behind it.
“I’m jus’ making sure you don’t freeze.”
“Yeah?- well I’m starting to wish I’d just left.” Zanka sighs.
Jabber throws her hand up from Zanka’s side- “Hey! I can just go back to my side of the bed- no complaints!” But the second she starts to shift back away from Zanka, Zanka’s hand shoots out, and grabs onto Jabber’s wrist.
Jabber can see her face now- all red- lips bitten.
“Stay.”
Jabber freezes, eyes flicking from her lips to eyes. Zanka’s grip loosens, and her gaze wavers. Jabber’s mouth doesn’t form any words, they just… lay back down. They relax into each other, Jabber’s head in the nape of Zanka’s neck. The melt into this position, like they’ve done it before.
“Don’t make it weird.” Zanka grumbles.
“Too late.” Jabber grins into her neck.
The room goes quiet, and neither of them move from the other’s embrace.
She’s moving… no wait- she’s being moved.
Jabber groggily opens her eyes, squinting through the blood. Her head feels warm and wet, and her limbs all feel stretched too far. She’s outside- and being carried bridal style…
By Zanka.
She can’t quite make out her face from here, but the tassel earrings and the scent of incense hitting her nose makes her sure of it. She feels the warmth of blackness seep into her mind and her thoughts start to drift away again- but just as, she feels something wet drip down onto her cheek. Oh.
Zanka’s crying.
…
When she comes back to- she’s in a bed. Hospital bed? Warm sunlight is filtered into the room through large windows, and her whole body feels sore. She’s flat on her back, a pounding pressure in her head. She groans, wishing more than anything she could just dose herself with some of Mankira's painkiller. But when she feels for Mankira, the claws refuse to materialize. She sighs- she’ll just try later. But the sound scrapes up her dry throat.
But when she tries to sit up in the bed, she feels a weight over her chest keeping her down.
Zanka’s arm.
Zanka is laid out on the bed beside her, arm draped over Jabber’s chest, her face buried in the crook of Jabber’s neck. Her face is red, and looks tear stained.
“What…” Jabber mutters, but doesn’t make any movement to push Zanka off.
Instead, Zanka slowly blinks her eyes open, and looks up to Jabber.
“Jabber…” She mumbles, still groggy from sleep.
Suddenly, her hands are gripping onto Jabber’s shirt, and tears are spilling from her eyes. She mutters illegible things, words spilling one after the other. This is off.
As Zanka sobs into Jabber’s shoulder, Jabber stays still. She’s frozen in place. “G-get offa’ me.” Jabber tries to command, but Zanka doesn’t respond.
“Zanka!”
“Y-you almost died- you almost died- oh god-” Zanka rambles.
Jabber sighs.
…then moves a hand.
Awkwardly, she brings her hand on Zanka's back. She uses her other hand to tuck behind a stray piece of Zanka’s hair.
Zanka stops gushing out concerns to look at Jabber, surprise and grief painted across her features.
“Stop it. I ain’t dead.” Jabber deadpans. “Don’t like you cryin’ on me.. It’s embarrassin’.” She says, but her thumb is rubbing circles onto Zanka’s back.
Zanka smiles, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.
“Yer always so mean- Jabber.” Zanka mumbles into the crook of Jabber’s neck, so softly she almost misses it. “So mean…”
Jabber grins- “And yer not? You're the one that bashed my head in.” “Didn’t mean to. Just wanted to finally get a win on ya’.” Zanka grumbles.
Jabber huffs a laugh. “What’s wrong with you? You knock me out- then get me patched up. What's yer deal- Zanka?” Jabber muses.
Zanka tenses beside her, her grip on Jabber’s shirt tightening.
She stays silent.
“Zanka…?”
“It’s nothing. Drop it.” Zanka hisses.
“Hard to not think about it when your breathin’ down my neck.”
Zanka flushes at that- and tries to pull herself away, but Jabber’s grip on her back keeps her close.
“Nope. you ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Jabber coos, wrapping another arm around Zanka’s torso.
“Jabber-!”
“Go back to bein’ all worried about me. I liked that part.”
Zanka keeps grumbling, but she stops trying to pry herself away. She stills under Jabber’s embrace, though begrudgingly.
Jabber hums, then-
“So- why’d you take me to some doctor?”
“I said drop it.”
Jabber pouts. “Zanka, cmon- don’t start that! You were worried for me- right?”
“What- No!”
“Yeah- you were ramblin’ about how I almost died or somethin’.”
“You DID almost die!”
Jabber nuzzles closer to Zanka, cooing. “Awe- you trying to keep me alive for a lil’ longer?”
Zanka scoffs. “Sorry I don’t want yer annoying ass dead.”
Jabber waits for the yet- but it doesn’t come.
“That sounded almost affectionate. Are you going soft on me, Zanzan?” Jabber hums.
“I’m not soft!” Zanka stiffens. “I jus’ have fun with ya. Thought that was obvious.”
Woah- okay.
“Awe, I have fun with you too.” Jabber grins sarcastically.. “You know- no one else has developed a resistance to Mankira’s poisons as fast as you- right?”
Zanka stays silent for a moment, before uttering a soft “Cool.”
They stay still together, laying in bed. She’s suddenly all too aware of the environment they’ve built themselves. Of how close they are. Too close. But without thinking, she trails her hand down Zanka’s arm, drinking in her soft inhale. Slowly, she interlocks their fingers. Mankira hums with energy against the back of Zanka’s palm. Zanka stills.
“Jabber.” Zanka warns, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead- she laces her fingers into Jabber’s own.
Jabber closes her eyes, ignoring her warning.
“Jabber. You have no idea what ya’ do to me.” Zanka murmurs, so softly Jabber almost missed it.
She wants to do something- she almost-
Her thoughts stop.
She wakes up.
Her bed is cold again. Her headache is back- and it feels like it’s spread down to her neck. Jabber groans, using mankira’s claws to prick her neck. She groans into her pillow as the neurotoxin flows through her body, numbing all of her senses. Clearing her mind.
She really should’ve done this before.
Zanka.
She sighs. This was going to be a problem. Zanka left before Jabber woke. A part of her wishes she stayed till the morning. Till Jabber woke up.
But then what?
They’d eat breakfast together? Go out to town, hold hands?
Jabber shudders at the thought. Ew. No holding hands, no dates.
So what does she want?
Jabber gets out of bed, and walks her way to the bathroom. She finds her discarded raider uniform there, folded neatly on the sink countertop. Zanka must’ve put it there while Jabber was busy puking her guts out. Once out of the bathroom, she drifts back into her room.
She stands in front of her bed, just looking at it. There’s still an imprint of Zanka’s form on the mattress.
She wonders when Zanka left. Was she careful to not wake Jabber? She thinks about how interlocked they might’ve been, if Zanka had to untangle their limbs to leave. Was she cursing Jabber’s name, or was she thinking about how much she was going to miss it?
No way in hell. She probably didn’t even fall asleep. She waited for Jabber’s breath to even out, then took her leave. Took her first chance to ditch.
Yeah- That’s what happened.
But when she lays back down in her bed, it still feels faintly warm. The sheets still have that lingering smell of incense, and she swears there's faint blonde hair still strewn across the pillow.
The bed is still warm.
Jabber’s hand twitches, and she can almost feel the sensation of someone holding it. Mankira remembers it too, thrumming with energy.
And it all comes back.
Zanka crying over Jabber, their hands clasped together, Zanka murmuring things in her ear.
Their closeness, and together in bed.
And then Jabber, putting the two of them in that situation all over again.
Oh god.
So that’s why Zanka kept asking if I remembered. She was scared of what Jabber would resurface, all the icky vulnerability between the two of them. The disgusting gentleness.
“You have no idea what ya’ do to me.”
Jabber groans. This is all getting to be a little much. She needs air.
After crawling out of bed and opening the door to her apartment, she steps outside into the morning sun. She inhales slowly, taking in all the gross air. It always works to clear her mind- the burn of radiation down her throat. If only she lived closer to a No Man’s Land, this would be much more effective.
She opens her eyes, making up her mind.
She can’t avoid this anymore.
She taps her hand against the metal- a voice filters through.
“Jabber?” Zanka’s voice says. “What da ya’ want?”
“I think we need ta’ talk.” Jabber says.