Chapter Text
Deep in the heart of the Ground, wherever the raiders would hide out, was a small shed. Almost similar to August's workshop.
It was worn, creaked occasionally with age. The wood it was made out of had scrapes from trash that probably flew down from the Sphere, random dead vines from what used to be plants but died from the polluted air.
And inside that tiny shed was Jabber Wonger.
There he was, long brown locs tied into a ponytail, some fallen into his face. He occasionally brushed them away. A dim light shown above, and many chemicals stood on a table in front of him.
For context—as he wasn't just testing new toxins for fun as usual—he and Zanka recently fought.
it was back in that giant device of Zodyl's, whatever it was for Jabber never really cared to look or ask. They fought and Jabber knocked Zanka on his ass. Even so, he saw Zanka's potential, how he never used it, too.
That pissed Jabber off. He hated weaklings.
Zanka was no weakling, of course. Jabber saw his strength. After all, he stopped Mankira with his teeth alone just to not die. Nobody of weakness could do that. Jabber saw what Zanka could become.
Unfortunately, Zanka didn't see it like Jabber did. Zanka just spouted shit like 'I'm jus' an average joe' this, and 'I should just die already' that. Zanka was stronger than he thought, he had the potential, he just never had the ability to show it.
So, that's why Jabber is here! Testing and making toxins for Mankira to digest, so he could swipe at Zanka. And hopefully his plan would work.
Which, of course, was make a toxin that made Zanka stronger, so he could use that potential and beat Jabber. So he could 'prove himself'.
Jabber smiled to himself, he knew Zanka would like it if he finally won.
It'd been hours, though. Jabber knew if he didn't have the energy he did at night, he'd be dead asleep.
His hard work payed off when he finally got it—the toxin. Subtly glowing, dark pink and something that looked like a sickly sweet drink. Oh well.
Jabber's low eyes flicked to Mankira's silver that glinted on his slender fingers, before a pink flame engulfed her from Jabber activating her. The long metal claws appearing and shining with the dim light, clean despite the many fights she has been through.
He carefully took the vial of toxin, dripping it onto Mankira for her to absorb, watching it fade away into the metal. He smiled, deactivating her to keep it saved for Zanka.
"Perfect," he drawled quietly, his voice smooth and tired. He yawned shortly after.
"Aight. Enough work for now.."
Jabber stretched, the bottom of his tank top lifting barely to expose his deep caramel skin, a couple scars shone. He headed out of the old shed, flicking the light off and heading back to the raiders base, going to his 'room'.
I suppose they didn't really have rooms like the Cleaners, for their base was a bit more.. messy, but it was basically wherever they pleased. They often stayed in the spot they picked and called it their room. Jabber's was in a secluded area at the end of the hall that had a lonely bed, a mini closet with his clothing, and a small window that he only opened to let the smell of bitter smoke from his cigarettes fade away.
Jabber flopped onto his bed tiredly, curling up. He didn't have to change considering he just had on black sweatpants and that tank top, and he was relieved. His body hurt from slouching over to mix toxins and whatnot, he knew he'd sleep good.
And, with that, he immediately passed out from exhaustion. Sleep taking his overworked body into a dream, likely about fighting Zanka again. Curled up on his raggedy sheets, (because, of course, they lived in trashlands. Where would you find perfect sheets?), snoring lightly once consciousness faded away.
...
Zanka yawned, stretching and cracking his back. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with a quiet groan. He can't remember when he fell asleep last night, it's been a bit hard to since that fight with Jabber. A scar forming from the cut he got from Mankira, where the toxins hit. And, he was still occasionally sore in his arms from lack of sleep. He often trained or had to do missions, instead of taking it easy on his worn body. He had to prove himself.
Zanka got out of bed with a quiet wince—of course, his legs still hurt from the excessive training he did yesterday. Plus, he was on a mission and had to defeat like.. five trash beast. It sucked.
He rolled his eyes at the memory, heading to the bathroom. Grabbing his ragged toothbrush, staring blankly at himself as he brushed over his canines, deep in thought and zoned out. He wasn't currently hungry, but may as well go down to the Mess Hall for something small. And, definitely not sweet. Rudo would probably get the plunger again.
Zanka grabbed his headphones off the desk.. Or, well, it was more like an ipod. One he found in a No-Man's Land area and asked August to fix. He put in his dangled earrings and the earphones, clicking on a random song and changing into his cleaner uniform. And, refusing to look in his full body mirror as he changed. He always did hate looking at his reflection.
He sighed quietly, adjusting his bangs before leaving his room, a random song blasting in his ears.. Something called.. Reptilia? Maybe. He can't remember. It sounded good though.
Zanka glanced around the hall, seems everyone was occupied on missions or in a different room. When he entered the Mess Hall, he saw Riyo with Rudo, who was stuffing his face with sweets. Enjin was on a mission, Gris seemed to be sitting with Rudo and Riyo as well. He walked over to them, eyes flicking over them.
"Hey, sleepyhead!" Riyo exclaimed as she saw him, hopping up and slinging an arm over his shoulders, he deadpanned.
"Hi Riyo.." he murmured, sighing. He should've known it'd go like this. Luckily, Rudo was too busy eating and Gris just gave a polite smile and wave. He smiled back. "What're ya guys doin'?" he questioned, glancing around.
"Oh, nothing much. We'd just been talking as Rudo stomached eight tons of sugar. Wanna sit down with us?" Riyo replied, smiling nicely. Zanka chuckled at the Rudo remark.
"It'd be nice, but.. I gotta mission ina bit, jus' came to grab a snack. Thank ya, though." Zanka smiled back, waving after a bit more of their chat and heading to go grab some toast, munching on it whilst heading back to his room to grab Lovely (Assistaff). May as well head out to the mission a bit early, after all, it wasn't like the trash beasts would just disappear. Considering they'd been making appearances at this abandoned town for days, surprised the cleaners hadn't dealt with it already.
Zanka shrugged slightly to himself, downing the rest of his bread before grabbing Lovely from her spot on the wall, perched as pretty as usual. He smiled, mumbling a small conversation to her, as he often did, while heading out of Cleaner HQ, waving a small goodbye to Semiu as well.
...
Perfect, it was ready.
Jabber snickered to himself, dusting off his raider's outfit. He hid in this abandoned building deep in the city, no trash beasts around. He expected Zanka to appear soon, that is where he'd swipe him with the poison, hopefully it'd make the other stronger. Then he'd beat Jabber—honestly, Jabber liked the thought of it as well—and finally be proud of himself.
He waited.. and waited.. That is, until he heard a subtle snap. Perfect.
Jabber smiled slyly, peering out a rather large crack in the wall, seeing Zanka. He was walking around the dusty town, presumably looking for the imaginary trash beasts. Jabber took this chance to jump out the window—and, don't worry, he was only two floors up in that building.
Jabber quietly landed behind Zanka, though, his hearing was eerily immaculate, for he swiftly turned around, Assistaff at Jabber's neck. He laughed at the immediate reaction, holding his hands up. Mankira shined in the light.
"Woah, man! Seems ya still got that anger in ya." Jabber drawled, his voice carried amusement. He lightly grabbed Asstistaff's handle, moving it away. "I missed ya too, Mr. Bad Attitude."
Zanka sneered, his scowl deepened as Jabber touched and moved Assistaff away. "Prick. This was another trap of yer's, ain't it?" he growled, placing Assistaff at his side, his grasp tightening on her handle.
"Aww, you're so happy to see me," Jabber snorted, and, without any warning, he launched forward. Mankira activated in the process, hot pink flames erupted as he then sliced at Zanka's arm, he fell back with a wince. Crimson blood dripped from the scratch on his shoulder, staining his cleaners uniform and sprawling out like blooming flowers.
"Shit! What the hell is yer problem, Jabber?" Zanka exclaimed, clutching at the wound with a shaky exhale. Though, he felt himself getting rather.. warm. And, dizzy. It was a pleasant but unpleasant feeling.
Jabber huffed out a laugh, slowly walking over to Zanka and crouching down, poking his cheek with Mankira's metal tip lightly.
"I made ya a toxin that will make ya stronger, so ya can finally beat me and prove yoself." He mused, crossing his arms on his knees from his crouched position.
Zanka's eyes widened a fraction—Jabber would do that? For him? It seemed too good to be true.
And it was.
Jabber inspected Zanka as the toxin increased, tilting his head with a quirk of his brow.
"Though, don't blame ya boy if it messes up. It's my first time tryna make a toxin that ain't makin' people weaker." he sighed, standing back up.
Zanka, meanwhile, felt strange. It kinda felt like he was drunk. His mind was a bit jumbled, and when he looked at Jabber, it felt like he saw the guy in a new light. He was so... gorgeous.
For the first time, he didn't see Jabber as just some crazy freak. He saw.. Jabber Wonger. A human, just like him, who is strong and pretty and eerily perfect.
Jabber had light caramel skin, smooth with some scars here and there. His raiders uniform hugged the right places nicely, Mankira accented his slender fingers. And his long brown locs framed his face nicely, Zanka liked the golden cuffs that glittered. Jabber's dark brown eyes had specks of hot pink, like a flame, Zanka was drawn to them.
"Aye, Mr. Bad Attitude. Watcha starin' for?" Jabber chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned his weight on a leg, watching Zanka. Though, he realized quickly his toxin didn't work as planned.
"Zan-Zan my man, tell me how ya feel. Stronger or.. what?" he sighed, he needed to know how his toxin affected Zanka. There was definitely a mess up in the process. After all, Jabber was a genius, but this was something new. He was bound to mess it up.
"Uh.." Zanka murmured, slowly standing up with a slight stumble, he got dizzier. "Dizzy? And.. hot." he replied, swallowing silently, stabilizing himself. It felt very weird—he definitely did not feel stronger. "Kinda.. drunk I guess."
"Yeah, I'm takin' ya with me," Jabber drawled, and somehow just picked Zanka up without a care in the world, slinging him over his shoulder. Usually, Zanka would immediately start trying to beat Jabber's ass if he ever even came close like this, but the toxin made him.. kind of enjoy it? How strange. But he didn't move, just stayed like that comfortably, and he could feel Jabber's arm around the back of his legs.
...
At some point they made it to a desert-like area, barren and dusty. Orange 'sand' sprinkled the ground in heaps, it seemed like finely crushed up trash. Smelled like it, too.
Ahead there was this small house, big enough for at least three people, but small enough to look like a speck among these giant lands. It seemed old, the green paint chipping away as some dead plants clung to the house for safety, the door slightly open. Though it was nice, and Jabber walked right inside as if he lived there.
Inside was definitely much nicer. Newer paint, a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and bedroom. The water somehow worked (not in the bathroom sink, though) and it was warm. Jabber set Zanka down on the couch, and Zanka immediately passed out upon sitting. It seemed the toxin messed with him a bit, made him too dizzy and exhausted.
Jabber groaned at it, but he watched Zanka for another second, he was kinda cute. Always had been. He pat the guys head before walking to the kitchen to see if his stash of food was there. For Jabber didn't live there permanently, but it was kind of like his mini vacation home. Sure enough, he did have some food in the cupboards. Fresh enough to eat, so he dug into it as he waited for Zanka to awaken once more.
...
It took AGES.
Jabber almost died of boredom, waiting. Zanka stayed passed out for what felt like hours—no, it was hours.
At around 6 or 7 at night, Zanka stirred. Groaning as he slowly sat up, a hand going to his head. It probably hurt.
Jabber immediately perked up at the noise, looking over from his spot on the floor where he was cleaning Mankira. He smiled widely. "Zan-Zan, my man! Good t'see ya came to!"
Zanka blinked—The effects of the toxin weigh heavy on his body. He still felt strangely drunk, too. He glanced at Jabber.
"Oh.. Uh, yeah." he mumbled out, almost inaudibly. Just kind of staring at Jabber. I think he's head over heels from this toxin.
"Yer hair's... nice. Have ya always looked this good..?"
Jabber raised a brow. This was not the Zanka he knew, no way. He'd probably have called him three different swears—well, thst's kinda Rudo's thing, but y'know. He is never this soft towards Jabber. Never.
"Uh... Zan, d'ya feel good?" Jabber scoffed, getting up and walking over to Zanka, putting his hand on Zanka's forehead a bit roughly to somewhat test his temperature.
Zanka swatted him away, huffing. "I'm fine, moron." he glared, fixing his frizzy bangs, messed up thanks to Jabber.
Jabber rolled his eyes, giving Zanka a once-over. "You looka bit flushed. Ya sure you feelin' okay?"
"I told you, m'fine. Jus' abit dizzy." Zanka remarked, crossing his arms. He also kinda looked a bit drunk as he felt.
Jabber studied Zanka—he realized quite fast what his toxin did. Zanka is clearly in-love, and.. I guess feels slightly drunk. Jabber scowled at the realization—how could he have failed that bad at making the toxin?
Zanka kept his gaze on Jabber, partially zoned out it seemed. At this rate you could see the hearts forming in Zanka's eyes. Jabber tilted his head, deadpanning.
"Zan-Zan, there is no need t'stare." he huffed, flicking Zanka's forehead. Zanka flinched, but he didn't hit Jabber away like usual. His words seemed a bit slurred.
"I'm not, damn! Jus'... shut yer trap." he looked away, his cheeks seemingly getting hotter and more pink. Yeah, he was gonna be messed up for a while.
...
So... It was now 11 at night. And you know what? Zanka was still affected by the toxin.
Jabber couldn't figure out what he did. Of course, he was a genius, he made his own toxins after all. But this was new. All his toxins had been to weaken, not to strengthen, and clearly, something mixed the two into what seems like a love potion. That kinda makes Zanka drunk. He was so confused.
As of now, Zanka was being obnoxiously touchy. They were sat on the couch, Jabber with his arms resting on the top of said couch, and Zanka was sitting next to him. Though, the toxin made him a bit bold. He was touching Jabber's stomach, legs, arms.. Kind of just roaming. And eerily, Jabber loved it. We know the guy is a freak for Zanka, though, so why wouldn't he like it?
Zanka kept tracing shapes on Jabber's skin and through his raider uniform, his cheeks still flushed and head heavy and jumbled. He could hardly form a coherent thought that wasn't just about Jabber and how warm he was.
Zanka yawned, Jabber's eyes flicked over. Damn, this guy just passed out yet is already tired again? he sighed, continuing to watch the old tv in the house. Zanka was also half-watching whatever played, but mainly messing with Jabber's clothes and still touching him.
After a while, he literally just.. curled up against Jabber? Jabber didn't usually do that soft shit, but.. Zanka was warm, and eerily pleasant, a nice weight against him. So Jabber just wrapped an arm around Zanka's waist and let him sleep, feeling his breath against his neck. He liked it. Zanka slept peacefully.
As hours passed, Jabber stayed mostly awake watching the shows that would appear, while Zanka stayed curled up next to him. Jabber can't remember when, but he ended up falling asleep, too. Only realizing when the first bits of light shone through a window in the house, the rare bits of light the Ground saw. Gleaming nicely in a way against Zanka's milky pale skin and Jabber's smooth caramel one. He yawned, and found himself in a whole new position than last night. He was on his back, laid on the couch, and Zanka was on top of him, lower body between his legs and head on his chest, Jabber rubbed Zanka's back, for he was still asleep.
He didn't mind, actually, This position was comfortable.
As Jabber waited, he grew bored. Occasionally checking his phone (or, well, the random phone he found discarded in a No-Man's Land he chose to fix up), gazing out the window and whatnot.. Until Zanka stirred. He yawned lazily, his body still relaxed from the touch it was receiving. He blinked his body awake, glancing around before his eyes met Jabber's—he immediately awakened. He didn't feel as drunk as last night, but it looked like the toxin's effects still lingered. Zanka was still crazily in love, and it showed when he shifted to be closer to Jabber's face, and...
KISSED him?????
Jabber was surprised—for the first time—that Zanka didn't do something he knew he would do.
Zanka had cupped Jabber's cheek, and softly kissed his pierced lips. Not roughly, not on his cheek or face, no. Just a soft kiss to his lips.
Jabber didn't do soft, but.. He can't say he minded that.
Jabber watched as Zanka pulled back, his expression calm, unlike when they fought. His hand lingered on Jabber's face before he let it drop, tiredly getting up and going to find something to eat. Not even questioning the place he was in, considering it was a random ass house somewhere.
Zanka dug around cabinets, eventually Jabber came in, humming quietly. "Hey, zan-zan," he spoke, coming up behind Zanka and, with a drop of hesitation, wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head on Zanka's shoulder. "Need help?" he murmured, glancing down. Zanka had only found some crackers.
Zanka glanced at Jabber, subtly nodding. "..yeah, I can't find anythin'." he huffed out, but he didn't pull away. Jabber did, going to grab some food from a cupboard. "Whatcha want?"
Zanka blinked, thinking. "eerrmm.. ya got quesadillas..?" he mused. Jabber snickered under his breath, nodding. Luckily, he'd brought some scavenged food over and he had cheese, tortillas, and whatnot. He grabbed a pan and began making Zanka a quesadilla, as Zanka clung to him as if letting go would be hell. His head rested against Jabber's shoulder.
...
After a while, Jabber had created Zanka a quesadilla, handing it over to him with a subtle smile. Zanka was starving, so he gratefully took it and ate it insanely quickly, Jabber bursting out laughing from it. "Shit, man! You coulda asked for more if ya were that hungry." he giggled, taking the dirtied plate and setting it in the metallic sink, watching as Zanka's cheeks and the tips of his ears turn a light rose from being laughed at.
Jabber kept occasionally chuckling, but ruffled Zanka's hair and went back over to the living room, humming. "You were asleep for ages, though. Probably should get ya clothes.." he murmured, mostly to himself, before heading down the hall to the bedroom, rummaging in the closet. Zanka trailed close behind and peeked into the room, it was very organized, aside from the bed, which had traces of Jabber flopping on it for whatever reason.
Jabber eventually found a big black shirt and shorts, smiling to himself before going over and handing them to Zanka. The clothes seemed more.. Jabber's size than Zanka's, but he was thankful. "Thanks, uh.. Jabber." he pronounced, going to the bathroom to change. Jabber watched, thinking about grabbing his wrist, but shook his head, thinking 'what's wrong with me, man?' before sighing quietly and heading to the living room, figuring out what do to as he checked his phone.
At some point, Zanka came out. The shirt too big on his slender body, but it would do. The shorts fit enough due to the tight waistband, it was comfortable.
Zanka walked into the living room, spotting Jabber relaxed out the couch, scrolling through social media. Jabber glanced up at Zanka came in, a subtle, sly smile gracing his face. "Zan-Zan, there ya are!" he piped up, immediately standing while he approached Zanka, and discreetly activated Mankira, adding another dose of that 'love toxin' into Zanka's neck.
Zanka tensed up, his eyes widening a fraction at the feeling, but he almost immediately relaxed, the relatively drunk feeling reappearing as vision ever so slightly fuzed. He said nothing as he recognized it as the same toxin as last night, yet he still didn't fully understand what it did.
Jabber hummed, deactivating Mankira as he gave Zanka a once-over.
"The fit ain't too bad. Looks pretty good on you, ya dig?" he chuckled quietly, heading to the kitchen to see if they had anything to eat. His fatass was hungry again.
At some point he found some crackers to munch on, to subside the feeling. Zanka was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling blankly. He honestly felt high, drunk, and madly in love all at once. Wasn't as bad as the first toxin Jabber hit him with at their first fight, though.
...
Dusk approached. Considering there was hardly any light on the ground, obviously there was a lack of moonlight as well. No lovely stars that twinkled in a void, no visible moon that reflected off light. It was often pitch black.
The inky void dripped into the room through the various windows, coating everything in shadow. The pollution clouds overhead flickered with trash that passed by from the Sphere.
Their house was quiet, aside from the soft breaths of Jabber and Zanka as they shared a bed in the room. Though neither of them were actually asleep. Zanka was reading a random book he found under the bed, Jabber was cleaning Mankira at the desk. It was comfortable silence—that is, until Zanka spoke.
"Jabber.." he started slowly. "Why are ya a raider?"
The question was random. Bizarre, even. Completely out of the blue, and, honestly, shocked Jabber. Just a bit.
Jabber Wonger didn't do 'soft', he didn't do 'angsty backstory', everything he chose in life was for the love of the game. Though, his answer even surprised himself.
"Zodyl found me as a kid." he shrugged, before grimacing to himself. It wasn't that much information but it felt so vague, like he'd have to say more. Again, Jabber wasn't the 'sad backstory' guy. He tried not to share anything.
Zanka listened, still staring at the book but not fully reading it. Jabber could practically smell the curiosity.
"I lived in the slums, in a way. Just some random ass town lurkin' near a no-man's land, but not close enough for anybody to be sick or somethin'. My ma died young, dad ain't ever existed. I lived there on my own for a bit. Til that old man picked me up, saw my jinki and decided to 'put me to good use'. Stuck with him ever since." Jabber explained, cleaning away fingerprints lingering on Mankira's pristine metal. Why did he even say so much to Zanka? Oh well. The guy was on toxins. Maybe he'd forget all Jabber said by tomorrow.
Zanka paused, thinking. That was a lot more than he expected of Jabber. Honestly he kind of assumed the guy just spawned in as a raider. He was strong, he almost couldn't picture Jabber as anything else but a raider.
"...Oh." he mumbled, what could he even say to that? To him, Jabber was bold. strong. smart. He should've guessed his past wasn't picture perfect, but..
"Why're you a cleaner?" Jabber inquired. Usually he wouldn't give a crap, though, he felt like asking. For something to do.
Zanka stayed silent a moment, his fingers lightly running against the pages, feeling the paper. "I grew up in this small city kind of thing.. I was raised in a kind of family that was somewhat perfect. I was training to become a Hell Guard like my siblings." he took a breath, staring at the book with a calm look. Even though he was mostly just spaced out.
"Well, some girl came. She was some prodigy, and she humiliated me pretty badly, I guess." Zanka murmured, beginning to fidget with the corners of pages. "One day we were grabbing weapons for something, can't really remember what for."
"On the table was a stick. Plain and lame, I thought it was somethin' kinda like, uh.. like reverse psychology or similar to that.." he admitted quietly, feeling heat on his cheeks from slight embarrassment. "It wasn't, though. It was just a stupid stick, it wasn't even meant to be on the table."
Jabber, surprisingly, didn't even laugh. Processing the whole thing as Zanka spoke again.
"I made a pretty big fool of myself, and hid in a well for days. That's when I met Enjin and Riyo." Zanka sighed, closing the book as he rested it in his lap. "They kinda inspired me to quit the hell guard training, that's where I became a cleaner.."
Jabber nodded slowly, resuming his cleaning so Mankira would be shining perfectly, for he'd paused while Zanka spoke.
"That's... rough." he mumbled. It was strange he didn't make fun of Zanka this time around, he didn't feel like the guy deserved teasing, especially still somewhat drugged on that toxin. Maybe Jabber would just use it as blackmail for later, but not tonight.
Zanka stayed silent, staring out the window into the dark, sighing.
Jabber thought about it—well, it does make sense.. Why Zanka pushes so hard to win. The tryhard he is. He got it now.
Jabber glanced at Zanka, slipping the freshly polished mankira back on and activating her. The toxin still lingered on Zanka, that didn't stop him from pushing forward and dropping in a heavier dosage into Zanka's neck.
Zanka tensed up, blood beading at the small cut, not enough to drop. He suddenly got insanely dizzy, hot. And had a strange longing for Jabber.
Jabber put away mankira onto the desk, but he quickly felt arms wrap and latch onto his waist. Zanka looked drunk at this point.
"..Jabber.." he murmured, pulling the other closer. Jabber didn't realize how much he put in until he noticed Zanka was like a lovesick puppy.
"You know, I.. um.." Zanka paused, biting his lip. He was bolder, but still nervous as he could be. Clinging onto Jabber. "I love you.." he spoke, before falling back onto the bed and bringing Jabber with him.
Jabber's eyes widened a fraction as Zanka was suddenly on top of him, sitting on his hips and caressing the gold cuffs on Jabber's locs, somewhat admiring.
"..Man, you've lost it." Jabber murmured, he for some reason didn't shove Zanka off.
Like stated, Jabber didn't do 'soft' bullshit. That wasn't his nature. He was a fighter, a creator. Not some idle cuddlebug.
Even so, Zanka looked like he wanted more than soft.
Zanka kept messing with the cuffs, trailing his hand to Jabber's neck, and back up to the jawline, that is, until he kissed Jabber directly. No heads up, no slowness. Just cupped Jabber's face and pulled him in. And Jabber liked it. Maybe he was the one going crazy, instead.
...
And that's how it came to this.
At around one or two in the morning, blinds drawn, bedsheets slightly messy..
Jabber and Zanka had started making out. Which, was technically Zanka's idea, his brain was so foggy he almost wasn't in control of himself. Just acting on urges at this point.
Jabber kept his hands on Zanka's waist, slender fingers feeling skin and climbing up under his shirt. Zanka's hands held Jabber's cheeks as he kept their lips firmly together, tongues overlapping and breathing at a fast pace.
Jabber almost didn't realize how much he actually enjoyed this. Having Zanka in his arms and kissing him to death. It was rather.. nice.
Zanka's brain was messier than Rudo after he'd dig in random trash piles, but he enjoyed it, too. If you asked non-toxin-filled Zanka if he'd ever think of doing this, you'd get a big fat no. I don't believe he'd say the same in this state, though.
They kept going at that, kissing each other until they were forced to pull away for a gulp of air, before diving back in. Jabber thought Zanka tasted sweet, and slightly of incense. Though Zanka constantly smelled like soothing incense, never too much, never too little. It lingered.
They stayed like that for a while, kissing until they couldn't breathe and Jabber leaving a few bites and marks on Zanka's milky skin, but he kept them low so his cleaner uniform would cover it when he was back to HQ.. whenever that happened.
They eventually split apart, but Zanka was still on the toxin. He'd gotten rather used to it after being blatantly on it for a couple days, so it wasn't as strong, but he still felt an ache. He needed Jabber badly. So, he teated a theory, wrapping his arm around Jabber's waist and curling up beside him, eyes closed as he tried to sleep.
Jabber immediately paused at the touch, glinting eyes flicking down to where Zanka lay. Jabber was not used to this, clearly—the guy hardly knew soft or any of that bullshit. He hated it. He liked rough and fast. This was.. this wasn't it.
But he didn't push Zanka off. That was too mean when he was still a bit drugged, wasn't it? Well, why should he care.. He should shove him away..
...
Nine in the morning. Sun filtered through the dusted window, golden syrup covering their skin.
Jabber Wonger, of all people, was hugging Zanka as he slept. Peacefully, comfortably—gently. Never in his life had he pictured himself doing so.
But he was. Here, now, and he almost wanted to do it forever.