Chapter Text
The day after his kill, Zanka sat casually chatting with a few of the other Raiders. A day off, of sorts. Though most had left after a while to do their own thing.
He leaned against the old brick wall outside of one of the safe houses when the smell of weed and chemicals his his nose, a voice then sounding to his right.
“Zanka.”
He hummed in reply, taking a short glance at Jabber before him.
He continued, “Can you show me? Her improvement?” Jabber was smiling now.
“Lovely, you mean?” Jabber gave a short nod. “Really? A fight here of all places?” Despite his words, he brandished his vital instrument.
A fight he wanted, a fight he’d get.
And so it begun. In all likeness to other fights they’d have. Desperate clashes, the loud clang of metal, sparks flying. It was so very them.
“You really want your ass beat, huh?” Zanka smirked. Jabber only hit harder. Though, if the slight gleam in his eye was anything to go off of, he wanted this as bad as Zanka did.
He spun his Assistaff, her metal parrying a slash from Mankira. This back and forth stretched on, both visibly getting exhausted.
Then, an opening. A slight falter.
Jabber had always relied on instinct rather than strategy. Give all you got and see where it gets you, see how well someone fares against you. Zanka, on the contrary, focused on strategy. The small cracks, the ones you can worm your way into. To discover one’s weaknesses. To bring them down.
Such would be his undoing today.
Zanka dodged yet another attack, sidestepping to slam the prongs of Lovely Assistaff into his ribs. He went down hard, pinned as she sunk into the dirt. Zanka dug his heel into Jabber’s stomach. Pinned like a butterfly, all he could do was watch Zanka.
The twitch he made when Zanka’s heel made contact did not go unnoticed, though.
“Gotcha.” He spoke through hard pants, knuckles white in the grip he held his vital instrument in.
“You… actually…” his eyes widened, almost imperceptibly.
Zanka dropped down, straddling the other Raider’s waist. He pulled Assistaff from the dirt and set her aside. His breathing was labored as he wiped blood from his mouth.
Jabber stared up at him, eyes still wide.
The blue eyed Raider let out a breathy laugh, “Surprised?”
A look of dawning realization passed his face before he pulled Zanka done by the collar. Mankira already in her ring-form.
“Hell yeah I am.”
In that moment, Jabber crashed their lips together. Really, it was all teeth, and the taste of blood was soon brought by Zanka biting down on his lip. He pulled away shortly after it began.
“What the hell is your-…”
Zanka froze. Jabber, once more, had that look. Dilated pupils, now bleeding lips parted slightly…
“…problem..”
Oh shit.
The next time Jabber pulled him down, he didn’t struggle. He found himself leaning in and kissing back. His hand found its way to Jabber’s neck, which he wrapped his fingers around and held there. Not squeezing yet, but present, almost possessive. A subtle press of the pads of his fingers had Jabber cursing him softly, pressing up against him.
Jabber, however, dug his nails hard into Zanka’s back with little care, causing him to groan into the kiss. Which was quickly becoming heated. He was silently begging for contact, and every time he was granted even just a little, he let out these needy sounds. It just spurred Zanka on more. Their breaths mingled. He could feel Jabber’s hot breath on his face. He could also feel something else he was too embarrassed to mention.
Zanka pulled away for air, staring down at the manic before him. Whom of which giggled, cupping his scarred cheek with the opposite of gentleness, “You’re perfect.”
The Raider immediately flushed at the praise, the tips of his ears turning red, “Wha-“
Their lips crashed again.
“Don’t talk.” Jabber muttered against his lips, giving more of a smile than Zanka had ever seen from him.
Zanka let out an embarrassing noise as he bit his lip. Jabber only kissed him again.
And again.
…
Zanka covered his face with his hands, letting out a deep groan.
“Oh please. It’s not that bad.” Jabber made a dismissive gesture.
“Not that bad? Look at yourself. Look at me!” He slammed his head on the table.
He shrugged, “I’ve had worse.”
Zanka flipped him off.
Littered over both of their chests were dark purple and red bruises, leaving little to the imagination.
“We didn’t even do anything..” he whined.
“Yeah, but it sure looks like you knocked me up.”
“Can you not?”
“Nope.”
He picked his head up to glare, being met with a raised brow and a knowing smile.
“Fucking… whatever.”
“I still can’t believe he would do this, though.” Rudo curled up on his bed, head pressed into his knees, “Why would he leave us? He’s a Cleaner..”
Riyo sat by the headboard near the window, looking at the boy before her with worried eyes.
“People change, Rudo.” She muttered softly.
“Yeah, but you didn’t expect him to change so much, did you?” He snapped, glaring at her.
She flinched back, “… No. No I didn’t.” She glanced out the window. She couldn’t help but wonder what he would be doing now.
Was he happy there? Happier than he was with them?
She sighed, “You should get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” She climbed to the windowsill, pushing it out enough to slip through, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” She added.
Knowing damn well she would regret what she plans to do.
Rudo nodded slowly, “Yeah. Good night.”
“Good night.”
She climbed to her window and slid into her room. Eyeing the pistol on her dresser, she shuffled through drawers until she found them.
Bullets.
She fished out enough to fully stock the gun, then she loaded it. Carefully, methodically, like she had done countless times. She set the safety on and set the gun back where it lay before.
Soon, things would change.