Work Text:
It’s been hectic recently. Enjin’s changed his schedule approximately 20 times in the past four months; as soon as he gets used to having to wake up at four a am for a shift, it miraculously changes to eight p.m., over and over again.
He honestly doesn’t really care about it for himself; Jabber’s a resilient boy, he’s spent most of his life homeless, sleeping like a narcolept randomly in any safe place he could find. No, it's not a problem for him, but Enjin is also making it so he and Zanka have different schedules. Zanka has had the same schedule for basically her entire life, and now it's changing like, every week, and he can tell it's kinda tearing her apart. She thrives on clear instruction and things being the same; this feels like some kind of medieval torture for her.
Is that a sign of some disorder? Probably.
Does he care? No, that’s his wife, thank you very much. He would kill several battalions for her; he does not mind fixing whatever's wrong with her father.
Regardless, the night sky is covered by a thick cloud of pollution, and his lungs burn in sync with the throbbing of his head.
Light comes from the cleaner’s facility, a beacon as he gets closer. He gives Semiu a nod as he wanders up to Zanka’s room. To say that he smells like shit is an understatement, so he knows he’s gonna take a shower before harassing her. Zanka used to be a very light sleeper, the type that if someone walked outside her room she would wake up and not be able to fall back asleep for a few hours.
They’ve talked about why she’s like that, and it's gotten better. Do not get him wrong, he remembers a night Enjin knocked on her door, and she didn't wake up, and he was elated; however, Jabber also knows how to be quiet enough that it doesn't wake her.
He picks up a shirt, something loose and white, along with a pair of sweatpants from their dresser, and heads off to shower. He spends a few minutes under steaming water, washing the day off of him, before he gets redressed and carefully walks over to Zanka's bed.
She looks so pretty, or at least to him she does. Her posture is rigid, lying on her back and hands laid crossed over her chest in a way that almost makes him laugh. He hums and can see her tense for a moment, before visibly relaxing herself and opening her eyes.
“Mornin’,” She says, a slight smile on her face, accent and voice deep and heavy from sleep.
“Morning.” Jabber returns her smile, watching as she pushes herself up on the bed, sitting against the headboard.
“Got a habit of watchin’ girls while they sleep?” Her head tilts slightly, having had plenty of time to adjust to Jabber’s... quirks.
“Only the pretty ones.” Jabber moves closer to her, putting a leg on the bed and putting one of his hands on her face, warmth seeping into his skin.
He kisses her, eyes closed. The only sounds that prevail in the room are the sounds of their breaths, calm, synchronized together as they move in a dance only the two of them know. Jabber moves his face up slightly, tilting his head and relishing in the sweet wetness of Zanka. He moves himself onto the bed, slightly on top of her, and her hands fall onto his hips, a comfortable, practiced motion, and they part.
Looking into her eyes, deep, lovely blue, he breathes through his mouth and smiles weakly at her, falling down slightly onto her and allowing his arms to hold around her head as her grip on his waist tightens. He allows his breathing to deepen, and can feel Zanka try and follow his lead.
“How was work?” She asks after a moment of silence, cheek pressed against Jabber’s chest.
He leans back and rolls off of her, sitting against the wall but keeping his legs over hers. “I’m fuckin’ tiiiiireddddddd,” He wines, and she just grins.
“Yeah?”
“They had me running round that town, searching for a little bugger, then, THEN, after like four HOURS of me looking for this thing, it wasn't a little thing anymore, and it was hiding in this lady's house and it broke through her roof, and now she has to talk to insurance or something, and also I might get fired,” Jabber gesticulates and then sighs.
He looks over at Zanka, who’s listening attentively. She looks.. Soft.
Jabber turns to be lying next to her, and wraps his hands around her waist.
“How was your mission?”
He can feel her tense up a little, and he looks up at her. “Enjin’s been treating me like I’m made out of glass ever since last week's thing. I’m glad that he let me start working again, but I know word got out, and I still don’t even know all that happened! People are gossopin’, and I wasn’t even there for half of it!”
Jabber nods his head.
“Probably more than half of it. That shit was so chaotic.”
Zanka tilts her head, and he can feel that he’s supposed to keep going.
“Hm. Ok. Do you remember Amo being there?”
“No, when was Amo there?” He can hear the confusion in her voice and leans more on her, knowing weight helps to keep her calm.
“So, you remember your sister being there,” Zanka nods, “After you went back to sleep-”
“Did ya drug me then?”
Jabber pauses, and his eyes widen.
“Would you be mad if I said yes?”
A hum. “No.”
“Then yeah, put some stuff in your water because I could tell you were distressed.”
“I tasted it in the water; it makes it metallic.”
Jabber can’t fight a chuckle then.
“Want me to find a new strain?”
“No, but I would like it if ya gave me a choice.”
“You’re gonna tell me you wanted to be conscious for that?”
“I never said it wasn't the right thing; I just said that some warning would be nice.”
He nods.
“Okay.”
There's a pause, and Zanka starts again. “Amo?”
“Ohhhh yeah!” Jabber sits up a little and leans against the headboard.
“Basically, she wanted to visit you in the infirmary, and because, you know, you were shaking,-”
“I was shaking in my sleep?”
“Yeah. A tremble, you were still with your little locked knees and your breathing was all fucked, Eishia was talkin’ to her about recovery bullshit, and she wanted to help. Amo, adorable little thing that she is, wanted to make you feel better. So, she gave you the scent of childhood.” He pauses, licking his teeth before starting again, “You started sobbing, and hyperventilating. You managed to roll off of the bed and fuck up your IV. So, I had to take Amo out of the room; Eishia was stressing out over your wounds, and I had a wonderful conversation. Because little Ms Amo thought that would help! She just wanted Ms Zanka to feel good, and in her words! ‘Ms Zanka should remember the times of pretty dresses and candies! That always makes Amo feel better!’ Except she was crying because I was.. Not as nice as I should’ve been- BUTTTT in mt defence. I was pumped. I just screamed my lungs out and threatened to kill a few people, because they were fuckin’ with my wife, and then someone else hurt her. I didn't fuck with that.” He takes a breath.
“So, I, Zanka, I of all people had to explain that one, Amo, you know Ms Zanka hasn't always been a girl, right? And she was like, yeah I know, and then I had to explain gender norms to her. Zanki. Have you looked at my closet?”
“You have some very pretty dresses in there.”
“I know! But I had to explain that one, Zanki wouldn't have been give-”
“Jabber. Do you think that's why she gave me that pink frilly thing?”
Jabber's jaw drops.
“The fuckin’ Disney princess looking thing, built in hoop skirt?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“Yeah”
“That's adorable.”
“I know, but now I feel like I gotta wear it.”
Jabber laughs at the thought, his masculine girlfriend wearing THAT?
“I only own like two dresses. And at that, I don't think I've ever worn them out.” Jabber grabs her hip, and she swats his hand away.
“Do you think if I wore it she’d laugh?” Jabber offers, and Zanka gives him small huffs in response.
“August makes most of his shit for either of us adjustable now, because you keep stealing the skirts he tries to make for me, and he makes you really good cargos.”
“Oh yeah, what did you think of his most recent thing?”
She glances over at her wardrobe and sighs. “He’s a genius, and I mildly think that you two plotted on it.”
“You’re acting like that's a bad thing.”
“I dunno. Sorry, I’m tired.” She shakes her head.
“Es, okay,”
There’s a silence for a while; the ceiling fan buzzes, the lamp gently illuminating the room in warm light.
Jabber perks up for a minute and looks over at Zanka.
“I got you a present today.”
“In town?”
She hears a hum and her eyebrows furrow.
“Stopped by that old shop me and Amo went to; the owner gave me something and decided you shouldn’t be left out.”
Her face drops, and she sighs loudly.
“And what, my dear, *husband*, might this be?”
“Don’t use that tone with me; I didn't do anything wrong-”
Zanka slaps a hand over his mouth.
“If you don’t go get it, I will throw you off this bed by your dreads.”
He speaks, muffled behind her hand, “You wouldn’t”
An eyebrow quirks, and she turns, using the hand that isn't on his mouth to grab close to his skull, and turns, holding him close enough to her that she can move him, and throws him off of the bed.
“Totally wouldn’t.”
He groans and proceeds to crawl over to his work bag, rifling through it before tossing a bag to her, small, a shiny material.
“Jabber.”
“What.”
Zanka takes a breath and opens the small drawstring thing, glancing in before scoffing and throwing it at Jabber, hitting a bullseye on his face; small, white teeth of all shapes and sizes explode from it.
“Where the fuck does she get this stuff.”
Jabber shakes his head like a wet dog, spitting out a tooth that unfortunately landed in his mouth, “I dunno, donation bins in Canvas Town always have weird shit.”
She brings a hand up to rub her face and breathes out, slow and steady.
“Do I wanna know what she gave you?”
Jabber grins at that, dragging himself back up and sauntering back to the bed, “Just a little number for date night next week, nothin’ special.”
Zanka pulls him back down to her.
“Is it a shirt that says you put the ‘whore’ in horrifyin’?”
Jabber’s jaw drops, and he laughs, maybe a little louder than he should’ve. “Bro, that would match so well with the other shirt she gave me.”
“Oh?”
“The uh, black one, with the white text, I got it with Amo,”
“The horrible person one?” She asks with an amused grin.
“Yeah!”
“Fittin’.” She says, the insult not coming off as aggressive as it should as her hand finds his head.
Carding her fingers through his hair, she gently scratches at his scalp.
“Did I hurt ya too bad when I threw ya?”
AS her fingers find a spot behind his ears, he hums, shaking his head slightly, “You know I’m strong, girl.”
Something in her eyes softens, and Jabber's eyes flutter shut under her loving touch. She pauses as uncertainty plays into her expression, and takes a breath out.
“Do you still think about them?”
Jabber’s eyes start to open, but Zanka blinks slowly, telling him to shut them again. “Who?”
“The raiders.”
He makes a slightly smoked noise, and she can see his eyebrows raise; his expressiveness brings a slight grin to her face. “No, been too busy dealin’ with cho crazy ass dad n all the shit here.”
The slight joking in his tone makes the grin disappear.
“I mean, like, for real. Do you remember what happened when you were gone?”
To put that whole situation in short, a few months ago, Zanka got injured, and while getting something for her in town, the raiders got their hands on him. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel guilty, and that when she saw the scars that stretched over his back, she didn't feel at least a little bad that she was at fault.
“Of course I remember it,” Jabber laughs, pushing his head into Zanka’s hand as she moves it to cup his cheek. “Try not to think about it, cause why would it matter now, you know?”
“It's somethin’ that happened to ya. That kinda makes it matter.”
Zanka doesn’t really know what she’s saying. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say either. She knows that she hasn’t seen Jabber cry or get upset about it since it happened. At first it was fine; she didn’t really care (She did). Everyone told her he would talk about it when he was ready. A part of her wondered if he would ever be ready on his own.
“Why ya bringing this up now? Curious?”
“Kinda, yeah.”
She had been worried sick after all, basically got put on suicide watch by the other cleaners while on bed rest because her partner disappeared.
“Pretty normal stuff, they took some experimental shit from my old stash and dosed me with it, makes it so you don’t got senses while being conscious. They bounced between that n some shit that makes ya reeeeal sensitive.” He pauses, and Zanka can see him swallow. “I wasn’t at the base the whole time. That part ain’t important though, hah.”
“What? If it’s somethin’ that happened to ya, it’s important.”
His eyes crack for a moment, and he looks at Zanka, purple eyes clear with something Zanka’s never seen before.
“There are some things a girl doesn't need to know ‘bout her boy. I'm glad Eishia got that weird HIPAA bullshit.”
Zanka can feel her heart drop. Jabber had shown her the scars on his back, explained the horrors of his childhood, and even some of that, but.. Here is where he draws the line?
“Okay.” She says after a minute.
“You know if ya ever need to talk, that there are people here for ya?”
Jabber rolls his eyes and chuckles softly.
“Stop actin’ like I’m made of glass, Zanki; it happened *months* ago, I’m fine.”
She hums, displeased. “‘M gonna talk to Enjin ‘bout gettin’ a team therapist at this point.”
“-Zanka-”
“Not just for you! Basically everyone here’s got somethin’ wrong with em, plus, you were right bout that whole soldier thing. That can’t be good. It’d just be a good id-”
Jabber opens his eyes again and tilts his head.
“Soldier thing?”
Zanka narrows her eyes and nods. “When you were talking with my sister.”
“You were asleep during that.”
She lets out an amused huff. “Enjin wasn’t.”
Jabber’s jaw drops, and he starts laughing.
“Is that why he's been so pissed at me?” HE asks, shaking slightly from how hard he's giggling, “Because I called him out about the child soldiers??”
“No, he’s still on your ass about me, buuut, if we do this right it's a good bargaining chip.”
Jabber rolls over and snorts.
“You break it, you buy it-”
That tears a laugh from her, and she rolls her eyes.
“He ain’t breakin’ shit. He’s just.. I dunno.” Her tone shifts from amused to something colder.
“What's up?”
Jabber tilts his head slightly, looking at her with a more softened expression.
“He’s done a lot for me, you know. He.. let me know I didn’t have to be perfect to be good.”
“I know. He talks about ya sometimes.”
That causes Zanka to flinch back in shock as she looks over at him.
“What?”
“You know. Semiu puts us on missions together sometimes.”
Zanka, a woman who dragged herself back to the cleaners, mental health in the dumps and dying, sobbing over Jabber, feels fear. Because on those nights, Enjin was one of the ones who helped her. She remembers nights when she was missing, and the only reason she didn't die from Kiri's claws is because Enjin decided to go out looking. She knows the reason Enjin hated him so much is because of those nights.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, he hasn’t pulled out any baby pictures yet.” He says in a tone of jest in his voice.
She nods her head, eyes not all there for a moment.
“Yeah, baby pictures.”
Jabber looks at her skeptically.
“There somethin’ I should know? You know, Zanki, I wouldn’t leave ya even if you were the ugliest baby in the ground.”
“Nothin’.”
Jabber sits up and gets level with Zanka, looking into blue eyes instantly.
“Mm, that nothin’ doesn’t actually mean it. You got that void in your eyes.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” She asks, a little incredulously.
He hums again and stares at her, and she feels like an organism in a Petri dish.
“There’s somethin’ Enjin knows that I don’t.” He pauses, expression calming almost creepily for a moment before he’s all smiles and casually rolls back over. “Not to worry, I’m sure on the mission next week I c-”
“I really liked you before we were dating.” Zanka interrupts.
Jabber’s face is of interest, and he tilts his head.
“I would hope so, but then again who wouldn’t love a face like-”
“I mean it was bad. Some of the worst nights of my life were after we fought.”
He hums.
“And he was there for that.” A question that doesn’t need answering.
“Every night after he found out, yeah.”
He nods.
“Neat.” Jabber files that away in his brain.
“Ohhhhhh,” He says after a moment of his brain buffering, and Zanka looks over at him.
Her face is unamused, and she quirks a brow.
“What now? Some eureka thing?”
“Your parents always made you feel like you weren’t strong enough, and like you could never be good, and I, like, quadrupled because I was doing the same thing they did but while you were trying to recover.”
Zanka’s body turns towards him slowly.
“I’m burning your psychology textbook in the morning.”
“Damn! Did I hit it?”
He raises his brow and makes a dumb expression that makes him look like a puppy begging for treats.
“If you ever do that again, I’m putting you in time out. There was more to it, but what the fuck, Jabber.”
“Wanna talk about your more?”
She heaves a sigh.
“I hated the looks they gave me. Everyone who knew would see my bandages and look at me.. Like I wasn’t me anymore. Just the girl that got her ass beat by her crush.”
“To be fair, you were really pretty when you got your ass beat. There's a reason I kept coming back for more, you know what I’m sayinnnnnnnnnn-” A loud crack sound goes through the room as Zanka’s hand connects with his face.
He nods his head.
“You know, deserved.”
A comfortable chuckle leaves him, and he cuddles up to her side again, an arm going over her ribs, one of her hands goes up his head, the other running up and down his back. After a few moments, Zanka sighs contentedly.
“I’m.. I don’t think I could handle going back to those times.”
He rubs his head against her side, humming.
“I hate to break this to you, you broke me.”
“Broke you?”
He tilts his head up, eyes soft and an amused smile on his face.
“The girls say you domesticated me.” He didn’t know that consent was for real a thing outside of sex until he started actually dating her, and also didn't know that it was important until then. Sometimes he thinks things would be more simple if he never learned. Would make remembering things in the past a looooot easier, but, hey! Sometimes you do bad things, sometimes bad things happen to you, live and let die, or learn depending on what kinda autistic you are. “I don’t know if I could go back either.”
And it scares him, sometimes. You know, the whole premise of your life and your morals getting mixed around. He isn't the same person. There are people he used to care about that wouldn’t look at him the same now, but he has to understand that's a good thing, and some weird thing in his brain only lets him feel feelings while reaaaaly high, and in a nest. Don’t question it; there have been few times in his life he has had enough stuff and a safe enough spot to make that.
“Do you miss it? Going out, getting in fights.. Being a lone wolf.”
He recognized part of it from a conversation a loooong time ago. Him talking to Zanka while she was high off of something, about how he could never really stick around. ‘M not made for that domestic bull-shit,’ he once said. ‘You’re fun to play with though, might actually take a minute before I get bored and dip.’ He didn’t know that she remembered that.
“No. I still get in fights and still go out, ain’t homeless anymore, which, may I say, is a plUUUSSSS-” he singsongs.
Looking back up at her, he turns back to straddle her again, sitting down and smiling. “Plus, I got a pretty neat girlfriend.”
She hums and smiles slightly, eyes slightly closed as he leans down and presses a kiss on her nose. She pulls a hand up and grabs his shirt collar, dragging him gently down and kissing his lips.
“You’re really stupid, Jabber.” A hand travels up to his face, and he can feel her soft breath on his face.
“I know.” A chuckle leaves him, and he lowers himself again, enveloping the woman's lips again. She smells like eucalyptus, with a small hint of vanilla from what must be from Ryio’s perfume. Her hair is soft as he cards his fingers through it, and slightly damp from when she must’ve showered earlier. He feels one of her hands go up his side, her thumb carefully tracing where his hip bone protrudes slightly at his side, then carries back up, cool hand going under his shirt and tracing at his scars. A slight laugh leaves him, and his other hand falls onto her shoulder; he can feel her smile against his lips.
“You’re perfect.” He says, his voice calm, and his touch reverent as he caresses her arm, eventually holding her wrist where it came to rest on his hip.
His hand feels the slightly raised skin of her scars, and he hums into the kiss, opening his eyes to see a delightful little flush on the woman, before they separate again.
“I.. I love you, Jabber.”
Another kiss, between her beautiful eyes, before he backs up and smiles again.
“I love you too. Till the rivers all run dry.”