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He’d never really liked hospital waiting rooms, and that went double for now. Surrounded by the sterile, glowing white floors and walls with the strange multicolored lines on the wall that raced off to other departments, Jabber had never felt more alone in his life. He swung his legs back and forth, listening to his baggy pants flop against the metal legs of the chair, the sound reminding him of too large sand bags being smacked against a wall. He wasn’t sure where he’d heard the sounds of sandbags like that before, but he was sure it was a similar sound. Just a hard smack and delayed flubflubflub as it raced to land on the ground. Another swing of his legs and it happened all over again, filling his head with unpleasant images that really didn’t help calm his nerves.
He’d never really realized how many sounds filled a hospital until that night – or hell, even his life really. There were the beeps and chirps that everyone heard in tv shows, of course, but that wasn’t even half of the sounds that had assaulted him. Dragging feet, shuffling shoes, squeaking wheels on rolling chairs and well used mechanical beds that really looked like the furthest thing from comfortable… People talking on the phone in a variety of volumes jolted him awake, while muffled cries and yells from other rooms and floors shot through his veins like the worst kind of caffeine. And those times when a whole gaggle of doctors and nurses would quickly rush to a room to take care of whatever emergency? Well, those were the absolute worst. Those were the times when he found he couldn’t sit still and Jabber found himself jumping to his feet and pacing until his worn sneakers squeaked against the floor to try and cover all the other sounds.
Damnit, hadn’t it been long enough yet?!
Jabber turned and glared at the door. The white coated one with a little white board on the wall next to it and Zanka’s name hastily written in smeared blue. It was still closed and hadn’t moved - the audacity. The longer he stood there and glared, aiming his hatred and frustration right at the unmoving door, the more he could feel his insides twist and it pacing inside him. Nails lengthened and stretched, coming to ends sharp enough to leave scratch lines in his jeans. The corners of his mouth lifted in a low growl that showed his sharp teeth, sliding into a more threatening position with each second.
A sharp whistle cut through his anger and Jabber blinked, quickly shaking his hands and shoving them in his pockets to hide the change. He closed his mouth to cover the teeth and glanced back at the rest of the chairs in the hallway to Cthoni. Right. She was waiting with him, always ready to cut through his anger and remind him he was in public where people had /expectations/ and shit like that.
Of course the shorter girl was sitting there with her eyes closed as if she’d never even looked at him and noticed the change. Her headphones were on, a book in her hands but closed with a finger marking the last page she’d read.
“Hasn’t even been an hour,” she answered his unsaid query and Jabber spun around, happy for the distraction.
“Isn’t that still too long!? I thought when the doctors showed up that means it's almost over!”
Cthoni opened her eyes specifically to level an annoyed glare right at her friend. They both knew exactly how many books Jabber had rabidly consumed on childbirth. They both knew exactly how long it could take and how complications could throw those numbers out of whack even for the best suited couples. Unfortunately neither of them had really found any real information about what happened when one of the parents had feral tendencies. And when both practically lived on aggression like it was air…
Cthoni sighed and set down her book, rubbing her forehead. “You just have to be patient.”
“Fucking hate that word,” Jabber shot back under his breath. They both knew it, but saying it made him feel marginally better. Even if she didn’t deserve it.
“So sit down and shut up already, they’ll come out when they come out. You pacing and threatening doors won’t help.”
Jabber didn’t hide his growl at that and aimed it right at Cthoni. Anyone else might have been worried at how quickly his fangs slid back out and the light shifted in his eyes, but Cthoni had seen him at worse plenty of times and responded with a bored shrug. The only clue that she might have been concerned was that she left her book splayed open across the seat next to her, her attention completely on him.
“Jabber. Sit. Before someone notices and they kick us out.”
Oh. Right. That was always a possibility wasn’t it? Jabber turned and gripped the metal arm rests of the chair tight enough to put a permanent kink in the long metal rod. What he wanted was to pick up the chair and ram it into the door, repeatedly, until it let him in to see his Zanzan. Hell, he’d easily take it to the wall if that didn’t work, but normal people hated shit like that. Destruction to dispell frustration and anger was discouraged - fucking stupid. In the end all Jabber could do was twist the arm rest and forced himself to sit down and dig his claws into his palms and hope the sharp pain made some of it recede.
“And don’t do that,” Cthoni muttered softer, tossing her worn jean jacket over to him instead. Jabber frowned and gnawed on his lower lip as he twisted the fabric between his fingers and tried to calm down.
Life times passed in that sterile hallway. The sun rose and set and the apocalypse came and went. Jabber couldn’t see out a window, but he was sure the years and ages were just passing him by while his leg vibrated against the chair. He resisted the urge to get up and pace some more at least a thousand times and by the time the door /did/ open, he was exhausted with all his effort to try and relax. Fucking stupid word, why didn’t it mean what everyone else seemed to think it did? Why did relaxing always wear him the hell out?
When the door did open, Jabber was the fastest alpha alive. Up on his feet, darting forward through the tiniest space between the door frame and the cart of materials. He only caught a momentary glimpse of bloody cloths and utensils before Zanka was in his sight and his whole world tilted.
All things considered, Zanka looked like crap. Ever the perfectly put together omega in class with the flawless grades and pompous attitude, he looked completely different barely sitting up in a hospital bed surrounded by blankets, sheets and pillows. His skin was pale and Jabber took immediate notice of the IV thick with red liquid flowing into his arm and how the blankets were tucked around him as if they hid something more terrible beneath. The room smelled of him, the strong, spicy scent barely able to cover the other stench of blood. Jabber wrinkled his nose as the two scents intermingled in his nostrils. Normally he wouldn’t mind that, but here it meant that a lot had happened and his Zanzan had lost a lot of blood.
Things like that might have made Jabber panic. The strong scent of blood in the room, the two nurses hiding like white shadows in the back corner to keep an eye on Zanka’s condition and the similarly clothed orderly with bulky arms by the door. Jabber took in the whole scene as his mind analyzed how to handle it all and who would possibly be the biggest threat before he realized this wasn’t about him or the side of himself he did his best to hide. He could feel his feral side at attention again as the sharp tips on his teeth cut into his tongue and filled his mouth with the hint of copper. Jabber swallowed it and his tangled bundle of emotions.
Now wasn’t the time. Zanzan was more important. And, by extension, so was the wiggly bundle in his arms.
“Hey, don’t you knock?” Zanka’s tone was supposed to be sharp and scolding, one of the familiar barbs they always traded, but his weakness cut through the joke and just made him sound pathetic. On a normal day Jabber would have said something equally snarky back, but he just couldn’t today. He filed away a IOU for later when they could properly banter back and forth.
So he just nodded. “This him?”
“Yeah. Rudo.” Zanka struggled to sit up a bit in bed. “Want to take him?”
The orderly chimed in with a calm voice in spite of his size. “That’s not the best idea.”
Jabber didn’t listen and took the tiniest person he’d ever seen into his arms. The bundle was mostly head, with two bug-eyed marbles sticking out in the darkest and yet brightest of reds. The pup didn’t match either parent, with his dark red eyes and thin wisps of white hair, but Jabber didn’t care. The way his eyes moved, narrowed and immediately focused on the orderly who was stepping toward them told him everything. That plus the tiny fingers with the world’s sharpest little nails, still encrusted with his mother’s blood. Jabber couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the little man.
“Wouldn’t come closer, I got ‘im.” Jabber’s voice sounded damn chipper for the fact that he was holding a little feral infant in his arms.
The orderly raised his hand in defeat and one of the nurses spoke, though she kept her distance. “Everything’s fine now. We were worried during the birth – this is the first time I’ve seen one so young with claws – but he’s all stitched up and there shouldn’t be any more bleeding.”
Jabber’s eyes flickered to Zanka, who just nodded his agreement. “He’s just as impatient as you. Gotta break him of that.” The words and tone didn’t match his expression again. Zanka was worn out – Jabber could tell – and he looked ready to fall asleep, but he also looked happy and relieved it was over.
So Jabber bounced the bundle a bit and nudged a chair over by Zanka’s side with his leg. Then he sat down and held the infant between them. It wiggled and waved its arms like an unhappy kitten until it caught one of Jabber’s locs and latched on tighter than Zanka during one of their hotter nights of sex. Jabber winced and smiled to himself at the tiny tugs until Rudo seemed comfortable and closed his eyes, claws and fingers lost in Jabber’s thick hair.
“I got ‘im.” Jabber said quietly. But Zanka was already asleep from the whole ordeal and the nurses and orderly excused themselves shortly after. It was only then that Cthoni peeked her head into the room. She entered with the silence of a ghost and came to stand in front of the couple with her normal disinterested look. One look at Zanka: asleep. One look at Jabber: beaming. One look at Rudo: snoring.
“I’ll let the others know he’s good.”
“Thanks.”
Cthoni waved it off. She was already pocketing her book and headphones, waving to him as she left the room with a final. “Don’t fall asleep holding him,” then she was gone.
Fall asleep? Naw, that wasn’t going to happen. Jabber was sure of it. Far as he was concerned he could spend the next century watching the little bobble-headed infant sleep tangled up in his hair. In fact, Jabber had never felt so calm in his life.
Obviously that meant this baby was going to be an absolute handful and Jabber Wonger was looking forward to every second of it.