Actions

Work Header

Bath Time For The One and Only Nijiku.

Summary:

After a long and grueling mission, along with his barely to earth person, Zanka Nijiku wants nothing more than to drift into the bliss of sleep. Unfortunately for him, things never seem to go his way.

Though.. Perhaps, that is not always a bad thing.

Notes:

This is a short ooc fic based on a real event that had happened between me and a close companion of mine. I would be starring as Jabber. Hee. Hee. As per usual, the warning of my notorious act of not completing, or deleting my works mid-session. It is of nothing new.

To be completely honest. I wrote this in 2 hours and never looked it over before posting it. Let us be hopeful there are no mistakes.

Enjoy.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The door to their bedroom swings shut as both Zanka and Jabber stumble towards the bed. One drained having gone along a mission that nearly took the lives of his comrades, including himself. Then the other, who decided today would be a great day to test out a new toxin without warning. Zanka was the first to plop down, limbs splayed out haphazardly akin to a starfish as he melted into their dirty sheets. They were stained and slightly sticky from sweat and drool, an odd smell etched into the lining of the fabric. 

 

Then came Jabber, who leaned their lofstrand crutch against the end of the bed before sluggishly toppling over onto Zanka’s chest, going the complete opposite in positions as they curl up, knee to chest, one high enough so his cheek could rest on it as his arms scrunched between his chest and thighs. Almost immediately did Zanka grunt, attempting to move the bigback off of him, or at the very least, relieve some weight from his chest. His arms slightly tug at the back of the other’s shirt as he speaks. 

 

“Jabba! Do ya mind? Yer real heavy these days..”  

 

Jabber only giggled in response, smushing himself deep into the crook of Zanka’s neck. 

 

“Yer warm.. An not in a good way..” He practically purred out, staying in place despite the lingering sweat stains from Zanka’s earlier mission and the rooms heat. 

 

“Yer real gross. Ya know that?” Zanka scoffed, pushing a huff through his nose. 

 

To Zanka, it was any average day. Their little shared apartment was fairly clean, windows closed, and the normalcy of Jabber’s everyday cuddles pushing into battle wounds he had gotten earlier on in the day, the familiarity of blood leaking through bandage that barely goes unnoticed. His breath lays even as his body starts to relax. 

 

 That is, until he hears something unexpected. 

 

“Hey, Z? Ya smell like yer usual incense but uh..” Jabber says lazily, chewing on his lips as he shockingly taking his time to think of how to say.. Whatever he wanted to say. 

 

“.. Jab— ?” 

 

“Zan, ya stink.” 

 

There was a moment of silence between the two, stretching out for who knows how long as they continued to stare at each other. Zanka’s eyes were slightly wider, a blush creeping down his cheeks and onto his neck while Jabber’s was more neutral, his eyes relaxed with a slight furrow in his eyebrows. Out of everything that's happened to the two, Zanka was shocked to find Jabber outwardly showing concern towards.. Hygiene. Seriously? 

 

Yeah, Zanka hasn’t exactly been the cleanest for the past week, or.. month. Training is hard, okay? An average joe such as himself is unable to maintain his skills by slouching around. Even so.. 

 

“Auuhnnn..” Zanka groans aloud, slumping against the sheets once more as he throws an arm over his face. He was too tired. Much too tired to shower of all things. He could be training, or— or— meditating! But he just wants to sleep the rest of the day off.. 

 

Another small poke at Zanka’s hand grabs his attention. 

 

“Do ya want me ta shower you?” Jabber asks, way too casually for someone who was just drowsy a moment ago. 

 

Zanka’s face goes pink and he makes an undignified noise, seemingly almost offended Jabber would think to ask him such a question. 

 

“Shower? Me? I can shower myself ya know, I ain some fragile thing ya need ta take care a—” 

 

“uh uh. Shut up.” Jabber holds up a finger, an unimpressed expression on his face. “I neva asked if ya needed me ta shower you. I asked if ya wanted me to. S’different.” 

 

Zanka could only muster out a small squeal, clearly embarrassed by the thought of that happening. Jabber couldn’t seriously be offering that, right..? He swallowed as he looked up at Jabber’s face to find not a hint of joke or playfulness in their expression. He was serious, wasn’t he? Just.. Washing him up? Just like that? 

 

“Ya.. Yer not uncomfortable with that? I mean.. It's kind of intimate, nah—?” 

 

“Nah. Not really. I mean yeah, I wouldn’t just wash up anyone but.. Yer not just anyone, are ya?” Jabber muses, as if this had been a casual conversation to begin with. Which for some reason caused Zanka’s nerves to calm. 

 

Zanka contemplated his options. He could say no, but he has no energy and he’d be laying in his own gunk. Which, due to Jabber’s mention of it, is very evident. His hair is greasy, his scalp dried with a slight bit of flakes. He also reeks of sweaty musk and body odor, and not the good kind. He internally cringes as he feels the sweat on his ass and back, which were arguably worse than his pits, those exact parts that are currently bleeding through his grey undershirt. Why would he wear grey on such a hot day—? 

 

A flick to Zanka’s forehead and a light giggle from the very much tickled person on top of him puts a pause to every thought racing through his mind. 

 

“Hey. Earf ta Zanka. Yeh or nah?” Jabber asked. Not impatient, but definitely curious, and a little amused. 

 

He can’t let Jabber see him.. Naked! Plus with his clothes off he probably smells even worse.. “Nah. I can do it myself. Plus, don’t want ya ta have ta sit in my stench while ya wash me. It ain yer—” Before Zanka could get any farther, Jabber slammed his face as deep as it could go into Zanka’s disgusting armpits, making the boy shout. 

 

“JABBA?! THAT— THAT IS DISGUSTIN GECHA FUCKIN NOSE OUTTA MY PITS—!” Zanka practically squealed out, trying to shimmy away from Jabber’s unrelenting sniffs as he squirms and yelps, only to be met with an even harder push into his skin. 

 

“I can hear yer thoughts dummy. Dn care bout yer smell, js.. Smells like ya a lil more. S’all.” He murmurs, actively burying his body as close as it could possibly get to Zanka’s as he clamped his jaw around the centre of the boy’s disgustingly damp armpit before pulling away. 

 

“Now can I shower ya er not? M’not lettin ya drown in yer own stink an don even think I ain notice yer lack of hygiene lately.” Jabber says knowingly, a slight huff in his tone. 

 

Zanka paused to consider for a moment. Yeah, it was embarrassing to have Jabber witness him all smelly and in dire need of a bath. It puts him in a vulnerable position, and.. well.. he's naked. His mouth goes into a line, debating internally before letting out a small sigh. 

 

“Fine. Yeah. Ya can bathe me.” 

 

Jabber smiles. It was peculiar how their smile did not mimic their usual vicious one, or that scheming look they got whenever they were planning to embarrass Zanka. Just a calm, content smile as Jabber sat up on the bed, already moving to grab his crutch as he makes his way over to the bathroom, stopping at the door and looking over his shoulder before disappearing. Zanka quickly follows behind, his face flushed as he closes the door behind him. 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                         .

 

 

 

It was roomy in the bathroom. A good amount of walk space, and an even better bathtub. It was renovated to have a small ledge Jabber could sit on, and the ledges were made to be grippy instead of slippery, in the case Jabber’s legs ever gave in out of nowhere. There on that said grippy ledge, sat Jabber, crutch laid on the floor and the twirl of a loc around his finger as he stares at Zanka, bathtub already starting to fill. 

 

“.. Waddya waitin for.” He said, deadpanned and expectant, to which Zanka only blushed more. 

 

“What? Ya want me ta just strip infront of ya??” Zanka asked incredulously. 

 

“Yeh.” 

 

“Yeah? YEAH? HOW BOUT YOU TRY N TAKE YA SHIRT OFF FIR—” 

 

He had exactly 3 seconds to process before Jabber took off his tank top. Ah. 

 

“Bedah?” 

 

“.. Whatever.” Zanka grumbled, nudging his pants down leaving him only in undergarments. He looks back at Jabber, slightly squinting. “You sure this isn’t like.. Weird for you? I— I don’t mind I just..” 

 

“Zan. I do not care.” 

 

“But—” 

 

“Wanna hear it in French? Je do not care.” 

 

“That wasn’t even a full sentence??” 


 
“Je m’appelle do not care fer ya penith.” 

 

“THAT WASN’T EVEN CORRECT—??” 

 

“ZANKA!” Zanka flinched, eyes wide as he processes the slight shout and Jabber’s furrowed eyebrows. He didn’t look upset, just weary. 

 

“If you wanna clean yerself ya can, but m’not lettin ya go ta bed all grimy,  wet, n injured, yer gonna get an infection er somethin’. Those are fer me, not a pretty boy like ya.” Something in Zanka’s chest warms, an odd happiness at hearing Jabber’s care for him out loud. 

 

“Promise ya won’t judge..?” 

 

“When have I eva?” 

 

“That.. That's fair.” 

 

With that, Zanka began to slip his boxers off. Slightly embarrassed, but slowly relaxing knowing it was Jabber who was there to take care of him. He peels away at his binder, slightly whincing at the ache in his chest. He should really stop going on missions with it on. 

 

Jabber hums out, turning the tap as the bathtub finally finishes filling. Zanka slips in, sighing in relief as the hot water soaks his skin, untensing every cramp and muscle in his body until he’s neck deep, taking a moment to bask. He felt a hand grab his ankle and his eyes poke open, only to feel Jabber starting to scrub at his foot with a washcloth, gently washing away any built up dirt between his toes or around his feet before moving up to his calve, thigh, hip, and up. This continued on both sides until Zanka was practically melting into jabber’s touch, a sleepy sensation overriding any instinct that told him not to drown in a bathtub while being cleaned by Jabber. 

 

Then, came the gentle scrubbing of shampoo on hair. The first layer of shampoo was a decently sized amount as bubbles started forming on his scalp, the deep scrape of nails and tender fingers causing his head to go hazy. The soap sat for a minute or so, before being washed out. Then, came the second layer. It was the same process, but with a dime sized amount of shampoo instead. Wash, wait, clean. In the back of Zanka’s mind he wondered if this was how Jabber washed their hair, or if they needed more product. His hair was a lot thicker, after all. A lot longer, too. Zanka witnesses a wash every 2 or 3 weeks.. Maybe. Most of the time, he’s out on missions, too late to ask about it. 

 

“Pouty.” 

 

Huh? 

 

“Pouty. Yer poutin. Why? 

 

Ah. Zanka hadn’t even realized until now. Anything he was about to say got cut off the moment a pea size of conditioner was massaged through the ends of his hair. Maybe the questioning could wait for another time.. Curiosity killed the cow.. after all.. or was it a.. 

 

 

 

 

 

Zanka flinches, hard. Realizing he’s still in the bath his eyes scan for Jabber, only to see them right infront of him, a calm look in his eyes. “Yer a cute sleepa, ya know?” He murmured out, casually. Zanka hums, relaxing once more. It wasn’t unusual for jabber to say things like that, he didn’t have a strong grasp of the line between intimate and friendly, Zanka had just learnt to live around it. 

 

The bathtub was drained and Zanka whined as he felt his body being scrubbed at again. 

 

 “Why er ya washin me again??” 

 

“Come on. Ya didn’ think I’d wash yer hair then call it a day, right? All the nasty stuff drips down onto yer body n all yer injuries. Now shucher trap n deal wit it.” 

 

About 5 minutes pass before Zanka’s sitting against the ledge with Jabber, rubbing alcohol gently patted onto Zanka’s wounds. Some scabbed and peeling, some actively bleeding. A roll of bandages and patience does the trick as Jabber moves on to drying his hair off with his towel. At this point, he didn’t really mind this. Jabber seems to be content doing extra labor, and who was Zanka to deny him of such? He started to put his pajamas on as Jabber grabbed his crutch, making his way back into the bedroom as Zanka followed suit. 

 

Jabber crawled onto the bed before scrunching onto his side, opening up the blanket. Zanka chuckled before crawling in beside the other, opening his arms as an offer. Almost immediately, did Jabber curl into his arms, burying his face into the crook of Zanka’s neck. 

 

“Ya still smell” 

 

“In a bad way? 

 

“Nah. Jus.. You. Dn care bout yer smell, js.. Smells like ya a lil less. S’all. Smells more like 10-1 Shampoo n.. stinkazoid bodywash.” Zanka gawks at that, grumbling. I do not use 10-1 shampoo, and my bodywash smells great thank you very—” 

 

Oomph. 

 

Zanka huffed, letting his complaints die out as he is pulled into a warm and gentle hug. He allowed his face to rest in Jabber’s chest, his arms circling to wrap around the other before pausing. He instead retracted his hands and allowed Jabber to initiate the contact instead. Content and in bed with one of his closest people and a comfy, slightly dirty bed, they both drifted into slumber, awaiting their shared morning.

Notes:

The Hierarchy of writers are coming for me for not looking over my work before I post. Help me.