Work Text:
Zanka was being stalked. He’d known this for a while now, and he knew the culprit too. When out on missions he would always catch a flash of purple clothing from the corner of his eye. Could always feel eyes boring into the back of his skull, making his hair stand on end. He never met the raider’s gaze, he’d never give him the satisfaction.
Jabber would occasionally show himself only to come out swinging. Zanka always caught him though. It was a weird game they played. Neither ever dealt the finishing blow, but that never stopped Jabber from leaving him writhing on the ground anyway. Zanka made sure Jabber didn’t walk away unscathed, though the freak probably liked it. He was vocal about it enough.
He didn’t know why he entertained the raider. He hated him and everything he stood for. Jabber and Hyo were two sides of the same coin, and both were unknowingly torturing him. There was something different about Jabber though. There was a different side of himself that only really came out when he fought Jabber. The desire to get stronger burned brightest when faced against him. He improved too. He got stronger with every fight between them. He even won a decent number of their tussles now.
Somewhere along the line though, something changed between them. More lingering touches, more stares, something scarily close to banter during their fights. Most of it was initiated by Jabber, but Zanka found himself smiling and laughing back on occasion. His face grew more flushed when Jabber teased him with flirting. He started to enjoy this game they were playing. Now, whenever he caught the raider staring from afar, he stared back. The first time he looked back was the first time he won.
He was out on a solo mission, wiping the grime and dust off of Lovely Assistaff when he spotted a glint of silver claws from a nearby building. Without so much as a second thought, he launched himself up onto a ledge with the help of Lovely and slammed Jabber face-first into a wall of concrete. The sharp crunch of a bone underneath Assistaff filled him with satisfaction. Jabber didn’t stay down though, and quickly retaliated with a swipe of Mankira. Their vital instruments clashed together, sparks flying off the metal.
“Finally making the first move Zan-Zan, I’m flattered!” Jabber slid Mankira down the base of the staff and tried to swipe at the cleaner again. Zanka ducked out of the way and wedged the weighted end of Lovely into the ground, using the momentum to flip over the weapon and bring his foot down onto Jabber’s head. But as always, he flew out of the rubble, arms swinging. His limbs burned with the effort of evading the blades with fine-tuned movements. With each fight with the raider, he learned more and more about how he fought. Every time he trained, he envisioned all the different ways Jabber could come at him, and with every new matchup he grew better prepared. For example, Jabber led with his left side more often, the backs of his neck and feet were his most vulnerable blind spots, and sometimes Zanka could tell by the twitches of his fingers where he was going to attack.
He found other things crossing his mind while he trained. The sharp scent of chemicals that always emanated from Jabber still threw Zanka off. Other distractions included the screaming, laughing, flirting, and all the other nonsense that left his mouth when he opened it. Useless things he had no use analyzing for combat.
They tussled for what seemed like hours before Jabber’s neck was pinned to the floor with Zanka’s boot. He trapped Mankira with Assistaff and dug his heel into the Raider’s skin.
“Got you now, asshole.” He huffed, out of breath.
Jabber’s body twitched a few times before he started giggling. It went on for an uncomfortable amount of time before Zanka kicked him onto his front and leaned down.
“Oi, what's so funny? I don’t have time for your bullshit today.”
Jabber had that crazed obsessive look in his eyes that was always directed at Zanka regardless of the circumstance, but now his face had a red flush to it.
“You like beating me so bad you actually won!” he descended into laughter again. “God Zan-zan, you sure know how to show a guy a good time!”
He sneered, “Back off, don’t get the wrong idea. I'm only here to get stronger.” He tried to ignore the blush creeping onto his face as he pulled away from Jabber.
They usually went their separate ways after a sparring session (Jabber staring at Zanka writhing on the ground before leaving him there), so he expected this time to be similar. He made the mistake of turning to leave when Jabber jumped on him. They fell on the ground and the fight turned dirty. Close-proximity punches and elbows to the face, just clawing at each other. Zanka tried to push him away as best he could. His hands wrapped around Jabber’s throat in a last-ditch effort to create some space, but suddenly there were lips on his. He froze for a moment. His hands shook with the strength of his grip but Jabber leaned into it, a dazed smile gracing his face. Without thinking, he ever so slightly leaned into it. Shock morphed into anger and he grabbed the raider by the shirt to forcefully bring him in closer. Like hell he was gonna let him just do that and get away with it. This was just a different kind of fight. The kiss morphed into something violent. Jabber bit his lip, so he bit harder. Their teeth bumped more than once and there was a filthy trail of blood and saliva escaping their lips. Neither of them seemed very experienced but it didn’t seem to matter. His ears were ringing from the adrenaline of it all, the only other thing he heard was both of their harsh breathing through their noses.
When Zanka opened his eyes he was met with a manic grin and a thin string of saliva connecting their lips. Jabber leaned forward again but Zanka felt a pit grow in his stomach.
What was he doing?
He shoved Jabber off him and stood up on shaky legs. He turned away and ran without looking back, ignoring Jabber’s hysterical giggling.
-----------------------
They still fought after that, but it wasn't the same. Jabber still tried to get in close, but Zanka fought back like a caged animal.
He was doing this to get stronger, not because of Jabber. Not because Jabber occupied his mind more than it should. If he beat him again all of these thoughts would go away.
The excuses rattled around in his head, but no matter how hard he fought it, Jabber still took up too much space in his mind. He couldn’t stop it.
This particular match he found himself in had ended as it usually did, with him on the ground and Jabber gloating over him. He paused and leaned down like he was going to brush their lips together, but still stopped inches away. He wouldn’t kiss Zanka while he was inebriated like this, but it didn’t stop him from messing with him in other ways. Jabber suddenly grabbed his limp hand and smoothed his own hands across his palm. He recovered something from his pockets before Zanka felt the cool press of metal against his ring finger. He sluggishly rolled his head to the side enough to make out the glint of a silver band before sleep overtook him.
Jabber was gone when he gained consciousness, but the ring still remained. The metal was warm from his body heat now. He rushed to tear it off, scared of the feeling that writhed around in his stomach. He held the ring up to the sky from the collapsed warehouse they had fought in, and saw a glint of purple come from it.
There was no way…
In his hands was a smaller, crystal-engraved ring from Mankira’s set.
------------------------
Jabber continued to showcase his unpredictability in the strangest of ways. For example, scaling two stories of the cleaner’s base and slipping through his window while Zanka watched in silent horror.
Jabber deactivated Mankira and spun around, taking in the room. “Wow! So tidy in here! Didn’t expect anything less from you.”
Zanka was off his bed in seconds, grabbing Lovely and digging her into Jabber’s neck like he’d dreamed about. “I was about to sleep. I don’t let visitors in, y’know.” He sneered.
“Guess I’ll have to leave then.” Jabber yanked Lovely Assistaff to the side, but ran into Zanka’s fist. He used the opportunity to throw him onto the bed and climb on top of him, effectively pinning all his limbs down.
They stared at each other for a moment. Zanka didn’t know why he didn’t alert Semiu through his choker, why he didn’t start shouting to alert anyone. There was an unsettling urge to keep Jabber’s presence hidden. Any interference would only interrupt this opportunity to get any answers out of the raider.
“Like I’m letting you leave, asshole.” he emphasized the unspoken threat by gripping the other’s wrists tighter.
Jabber leaned into the touch. “ ‘course not.”
That same smug grin remained on his face, it infuriated him to no end. Acting like he knew something Zanka didn’t and was teasing him for it. He released a hand and slowly trailed it down Jabber’s arm. He held his hand up to show him the ring that sat snugly on his finger.
“You wanna tell me what the hell this is?”
“Huh!? Don’t tell me you forgot what my pretty girl looks like already?” Zanka’s confused expression didn’t change.
“This right here,” he slid a hand free of Zanka’s grasp to twist the ring the slightest bit, digging it into his skin. “Is the final piece of mankira. She gets to go to a very, very special person.”
“Yeah? What the hell’s that gonna get me, a permanent stalker?”
“Silly, silly questions tonight bad attitude.”
He felt their faces gravitating closer together and didn’t care to stop it from happening.
“Don’t call me that.” He hissed, pressing closer.
“See? That right there's why you’re my perfect match”
Zanka didn’t fight it when Jabber leaned up and pressed their lips together. He didn’t fight all the repressed urges to bite Jabber’s lips bloody and lick up the mess. Jabber just sat there and groaned happily when he was indulged. Zanka tore back, blood staining his teeth, out of breath.
“You do this with all the people who beat your ass?”
“C’mon bad boy, I thought we were past this. Ain’t no one match my freak like you.” Jabber arched up into him to pull him back down into a kiss. The loose hand ran through his hair and held him close. Zanka let his grip loosen on the other hand and let it join its twin behind his head. He found his own hands start to move their way to cup Jabber’s cheek, deepening the kiss. It was hardly gentle, they were all tongues and teeth.
It was only when Jabber’s sharp nails dug painfully into his back did he jolt away. It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. What was he doing? Getting friendly with Jabber Wonger of all people?
He stumbled backwards. “CUT IT OUT! Y-you need to go.” he forced himself to meet Jabber’s gaze. Glowing magenta stared back at him, still with the same damn look on his face.
Jabber simply hopped up and invaded his personal space once again, wrapping his arms around his shoulders to look down at him.
“You think this little indifferent act is gonna last forever?” Zanka kneed him in the gut but his grip didn’t loosen.
“You think I don’t know, it's cute.” His manic laughing started up again, like Zanka had told him a funny joke.
“You DON’T know me, asshole.” Jabber’s proximity was making him flushed again and he hated it. His stomach twisted itself in knots at the feeling.
Once the laughing died down, he finally let Zanka push his arms away. “I know you enough to know that you like this. You like me.
Zanka shook his head even though his pulse quickened. He didn’t. He couldn’t. This thing between them wasn’t allowed to exist. It went against everything Zanka stood for, the cleaners, his morals, himself. He didn’t know why he’d let it progress this far, he was in over his head.
“Call me when you figure your shit out, bad attitude.”
What?
He tried to shove Jabber away again but his arms wouldn't move. He fell forward into Jabbers chest, unable to move his body.
That fucker!
He felt the shadow of Mankira’s claws on his back, Jabber’s hand cradling his head. He’s lowered onto his bed with a gentleness he hates. The raider smudges blood from Zanka’s cut onto his choker and pricks his own finger in turn to do the same on his.
He slips out the window with a grin and ‘call me’ gesture with his hand. Zanka stays frozen on his bed, uncomfortably restless from the adrenaline and paralytic combined.
“Freak…” he forced through gritted teeth.