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Jabber looks at the screen. On the camera, he has an iced coffee container in one hand, and his chin is resting on his open palm as he rests his elbow on the table in front of him. He’s doing a live stream today.
Zanka is in the chair next to him on his phone, watching the live stream to get a better look at what their watchers are saying since the chat box is on Jabber’s side of the table.
Their team members are on the opposite side of the table, monitoring the chat, and to tell them when to say their sponsored spiel.
They’re in a small conference room dedicated to streaming. The room is red, recently re-painted with Job’s artwork. Graffiti covers the wall behind them.
“Hey, guys. How are you all?” Jabber asks. He recently got fang bite piercings, and a few tattoos. He watches as replies come in. His dreadlocks are in a half up half down style with his hair tie being a bright blue.
“Oh me?” He says aloud. He looks over at Zanka. “Mostly been fucking this guy.” He laughs loudly.
Zanka shakes his head, and leans back in his chair for a moment to put his feet on Jabber’s lap.
“Hope you guys are screen recording this? With as much cussing as I might do, doubt my company will reupload this.” He leans back as well in his chair, he puts his hand on Zanka’s feet under the table. He starts to subtly drink his sponsored coffee. The logo facing the camera.
His team member gives a thumbs up behind the screen.
“Nah, but for real, mostly been working on music. Zanka made me sing the same part over and over again for the last hour.” He puts his drink down, and looks at Zanka. “Hey, they want to talk to you as well.”
“It’s your stream.” Zanka replies. “You’re the one that wanted me here.”
“I always want you around, baby.”
The chat starts to spam eggplants and devil emojis.
“We’re not fucking.” Zanka looks at the camera.
“Yet.” Jabber fills in with a smile. He looks back at the chat. “My next song should be out by the end of the month, but this song we were working on is for a theme song, so.” He shrugs.
Zanka puts his phone away, and reaches his hand out toward Jabber’s drink, who picks it up and gives it to him.
He starts to sip on it. “We’ve been eating behind each other for years. Don’t read into it.”
“I’ve been reading up on us.” Jabber says. Under the table, he starts to take Zanka’s socks off his feet. “They always make me the top or the Alpha.”
“Please shut up.” He takes a few more sips before placing the drink down as well.
Jabber smiles gleefully, biting his bottom lip. “They think we should get married.”
“Did you want me here to flirt with me?”
“I brought you here to show off my wife.” Jabber replies. He starts to massage Zanka’s feet. “You’re going to cook for me after the stream right?”
Zanka looks like he wants to deny it. He stares at the camera, and sees people asking what he’s going to cook or if he’s going to be on Jabber’s upcoming tour.
“I’ll most likely order dinner for us, and Rudo if he comes by.”
Jabber makes a very displeased face.
“You’ve had me to yourself since yesterday morning. Rudo is only in town for a short period before he goes back to the states, and you don’t seem to want to leave my side.” Zanka says honestly. He’s not one for cameras, usually behind the scenes as a producer, and stylist.
“You can see Rudo when I go on tour.” He’s aiming to be playful with his words, adding a pout, though he knows a few people will interpret his real intentions.
Zanka playfully yanks one of his dreadlocks. “Weirdo.”
Jabber smiles, and makes kissy noises at him. After that, he starts to focus on talking about his upcoming album, and if his band mates may come on tour with him since they’re technically on hiatus until they all return from military service.
An hour later the stream ends.
Jabber had to stay behind for another hour for paper work, and to do a few dance challenges, so Zanka went to wait in his car. He’s in the middle of texting Enjin when Jabber enters the car, and sits in the driver’s seat. “Back to your place?” He puts his hand on Zanka’s thigh, waiting for an answer.
He shakes his head. “No. We can go to yours since your maid was just there, correct?”
“Yeah, it’s clean. It’s always clean.”
“Yeah.” He says with sarcasm. “And you aren’t subtly trying to out us every day?”
Jabber shrugs. “S’why I’m tryin to get this coin. So I can get that fuck you money, and marry you.” He reaches between Zanka’s legs, and gives a light squeeze to his cock, then goes back to holding his thigh as he starts the car up.
Zanka blushes, and smacks Jabber’s hand off his thigh. “No touching.” Though he’s amused as he says it. He crosses his legs, and starts to look out of the window. He feels Jabber reach for his hand, but he smacks that away too.
They childishly start to get into a slapping fight before Zanka gives up with a huff. “Here!” He puts his hand out for Jabber to take.
Jabber sticks his tongue out at him. “Don’t want it anymore.” He puts both his hands on the steering wheel as they enter traffic.
They drive in silence to Jabber’s place. Zanka puts the window down to feel the night air on his face. It’s not a long drive, about 20 minutes, and the silence is comforting.
After 15 years of knowing each other, existing together is one of the perks.
“Is Rudo coming over?” Jabber asks. “You know I don’t have a problem with the egghead.”
Zanka shakes his head. “Enjin told me he was taking him out to get his first tattoo. Guess he’s getting a back piece started.”
“So more for me?” He stops at a red light, and leans on the steering wheel, so he can leer at Zanka. He licks his lips with inappropriate intentions.
Zanka puts his hand up, vertical with his face, blocking Jabber’s view of him. “You fuck me all the time.” He says with faux frustration.
“I’m going on tour.” He says simply, as if it answers everything.
And in a way it does.
3 months away is a lot.
The light changes, and he starts driving again. He sees his apartment in sight.
Soon he’s turning into the private garage, and into his designated parking space.
Turning off the car, and into park. He leans back in the seat. No urgency to get out. “Come with me for a month.” Jabber pleads.
“What do I get out of it besides boredom and a sore asshole?”
“Me. Existing with me.” He taps his chest to drive his point across.
“Not enough.”
Jabber whines. “You’re such a brat.”
Zanka’s eyes widened dramatically. “Excuse you.”
Jabber chuckles. “You’re excused.” And rest his arms on the console between them. “C’mon. I’mma miss your bad attitude. Least you can do for me.”
Zanka leans toward his lover, and kisses his nose. “Let me think about it. I promised to make you dinner, didn’t I?”
“Naked?” He pouts, trying to make his psychotic eyes look more puppyish.
Knowing it’s simply so Jabber can lustfully leer at the tramp stamp of his name on Zanka’s lower back. He kisses him. “Naked.” He confirms.