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Zanka hated parties. The small talk, the noise, the strangers, the trashy music, everything. And yet, despite his most fervent protests, Enjin had dragged him all the way to Canvas Town for some anniversary party on the basis that he "struggled with social skills" and "needed normal human interaction". Whatever that meant.
So here he was, standing in the corner of the room holding a mostly empty drink some woman had bought him. Technically he wasn't old enough, but no one here seemed to care. He had no idea where the rest of the Cleaners were; Semiu had disappeared into a poker room, Enjin had started flirting the second they walked in the door, and Riyo was short enough that he couldn't find her under normal circumstances. He was deep in thought pondering whether he could just hot wire the Jeep they came in and drive home when a gratingly familiar voice rang near him.
"YO, Zanka, my man! What're you doin' here!" God fucking dammit. Over trotted Jabber, his dreads bouncing with his step. "Didn't think you were one for parties!"
"I'm not. Enjin dragged me here," he responded, trying to sound as uninteresting as possible in hopes that he would go away. Unfortunately, this did not dissuade Jabber.
"Ah, yea, that makes sense. So, havin' fun?" he asked with a grin.
"No."
"Laaaame~" he said, rolling his eyes before they landed on his cup. "What'chu drinkin'?"
"Some beer," he said, swirling it around. "Want it?" he asked, hoping to whatever higher being that he could distract him long enough to get away.
Jabber grabbed it and took the last swig. "Stay here, I'll getcha another one," he said, darting off into the crowd. Thank you, God.
Zanka frantically scanned the crowd for someone else to seem occupied talking to, and was halfway to some support he vaguely recognized when Jabber jumped in front of him. "There ya are! Here," he said, jamming a new cup into his hands.
He looked at it suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Eh, dunno. Grabbed it off a table that no one was at. Looked like somethin' you'd like."
Cautiously he brought it to his mouth, taking a small sip. The first thing he noticed that it was strong, burning his mouth and throat. Beyond that, it was some kind of citrus with a hint of cinnamin. Honestly, it was pretty good.
"Like it?"
"It's okay," he said, then took another sip. "So, why're you talking to me? If you want to fight I'd rather go outside for that."
"Nah, man, in da clerb, we all fam."
"…what?"
"Yeah, anyway," he said, digging around in his jacket and finding a piece of paper and small bag, "Been hangin' round here a bunch recently. I'm tellin' ya, the drug scene is craay-zy here. Artists n' all that."
By now he'd rolled a joint and was lighting it. He took a long drag of it, tilting his head up and blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. On looking back down at Zanka, he quirked an eyebrow. "What, wanna puff?"
"No, I don't want your ketamine, or whatever it is," he said, turning to walk back to the corner of the room.
Jabber laughed and followed him. "'s just weed, man, chill," he said, leaning back against the wall when they got there. Zanka just looked the other direction and took another sip. When he looked back, Jabber was holding the blunt out towards him.
Well, if he was going to be here, he might as well enjoy it, he thought, and grabbed it from him. Awkwardly, he put it to his lips and sucked in. Immediately, a stinging burn hit the back of his throat and he coughed on instinct.
Jabber cackled maniacally to his left, taking the joint Zanka was shoving into his hands. "Here, look," he said through his laughter. "Jus' breathe in normally," he instructed, taking another drag.
Cautiously, he took a slower breath in. This time it felt hot, but not unbearable as it flowed into his mouth and into his lungs. He exhaled and watched as the smoke curl outwards and dissipate into the already somewhat-hazy air.
"Ayee, there ya go~," Jabber praised, and Zanka hid the flush in a swallow of his drink. "So, whatcha been up to? 's been a bit," he continued, taking another drag.
"Just cleaning trash beats. It's about all we do when you raiders are around."
"Oof, harsh," he chuckled, handing the blunt back.
Zanka just gave him an unimpressed look as he took a drag. There was a moment of quiet before he heard the beat of the music change and groaned, "Oh, god, I hate this song."
"Really?" Jabber asked, teasing.
"Yes, it's awful and I hear it at every single party."
"Eh, 's got a good beat."
"Yeah and that's all its got. I swear to God there's only like four total words in this stupid song and they just repeat it. It's terrible," he declared, starting to get worked up.
"I don' think you're really s'posta' listen to the lyrics."
"Then why have lyrics at all??"
Jabber thought for a moment, then, very seriously, said, "I think it's to irritate you specifically."
That snapped him out of it. He turned away and started to snicker, covering his mouth with his hand. Beside him, Jabber lit up. "You laughin'? For real? I didn't know Mr. Bad Attitude could do that!"
Zanka rolled his eyes. "Maybe you've just never heard it because you aren't funny," he suggested, grabbing the joint and taking a hit.
"Hey, I ain't all that bad!" Jabber protested as Zanka handed him the blunt back and took a swig of his drink.
"Yeah, I'm sure Zodyl loves your sense of humor."
"Okay, that's jus' a bad example, that guy's never laughed in his life."
"I'm sure not that you'd heard."
"C'mon man…" he pleaded as Zanka snickered.
The music changed again. "Oh thank god that's over," Zanka sighed.
"OOooh, wait, this one's really good, c'mon!" Jabber said, tossing what little was left of the joint back into his pocket and grabbing Zanka's wrist.
"What? Where?" he asked.
"To dance!"
"Wh— I've still got half a drink left!"
"Chug it!" Jabber grinned.
Zanka paused for a moment, and ultimately gave in to the suggestion. The liquid burned his throat, but by the time he processed it the whole drink was down and he was left scrunching his face in momentary pain. He let out a weak, "I'm good," and followed Jabber.
The whole building smelled like sweat, but here he could almost taste it. The dancefloor— or really the empty space that had been converted into one— was crowded with so many people Zanka could only keep track of Jabber through the hand around his wrist. Colorful lights swung across the sea of people in dizzying patterns, momentarily illuminating the few faces around him before he was plunged back into darkness.
Eventually, Jabber got to where ever he was leading them and let go, his body already moving to the rhythm. "What, ya jus' gonna stand there?" he yelled over the music, laughing at Zanka's stiffness.
"I don't know how to dance," he admitted, yelling back.
"Aw, c'mon, there's nothin' to it! Just do whatever feels good!"
"I don't know what that is!"
Jabber laughed and clasped Zanka's hands in his and pulled him closer, to where there was about half a foot between them. He began to sway to the beat, dragging Zanka along with him. "Zankaaaaa, loosen up!"
He looked around at the crowd around him, a sudden shyness overcoming him. Jabber followed his gaze, then said, "They ain't lookin', they're all too stoned t' notice."
At his reassurance, Zanka began to sway with him, awkwardly at first, then more naturally. The fear started to melt away, until all he saw was the purple eyes and happy grin of the person in front of him. Maybe it was the rest of whatever-it-was in his drink was starting to set in, or maybe it was something else, but he couldn't remember feeling this giddy in years.
The music changed again into a song Zanka had heard before, something catchy and generically upbeat, something Zanka would find incredibly grating sober. But he was not sober, and right now, it sounded like the best song he'd ever heard. He began to laugh, throwing his head back and bouncing to the beat as he pulled a very enthusiastic Jabber along for the ride, barely caring when they crashed into a few people nearby.
Jabber began to sing whatever nonsense made up the chorus and Zanka joined him, babbling along to whatever words he didn't know— which happened to be most of them. But the melody was predictable enough, and, honestly, it was just fun.
How long they went on like that, Zanka wasn't sure, but eventually the songs and the time blurred together into each other, all connected through the man in front of him. Eventually the music faded into songs neither of them knew, leaving them both breathless and grinning.
Zanka pulled himself closer, closing the gap and pressing himself into Jabber. His eyes widened and his grin faltered for a second, before settling into a softer and happier grin.
"What?" Zanka asked at the change in expression.
"You're cute like this."
Zanka just giggled to himself and leaned in closer as he caught his breath.
"Hey, wanna try somethin'?"
"Hm?" Zanka responded, half a question and half an affirmation.
Jabber spun him around until his back was to Jabber's chest and put his hands on his hips. Zanka leaned back, putting his head on Jabber's shoulder to look at him, asking, "Wha's this for?"
"Thought ya might like 't"
Zanka hummed and relaxed into him, swaying with him to the heavy beat of the music. He'd never really noticed that Jabber was taller than him (something he was currently blaming on the Raider's godawful posture), but it was clear now. Even with Jabber in flats and Zanka in heeled shoes, Jabber was still slightly taller. Honestly, though, he didn't mind it. Something in him craved this; being held by someone larger than himself.
"Havin' fun now?" Jabber asked, grinning at him.
Zanka rolled his eyes. "Mm, I guess."
"Man, you're really hard t' please, y'know that?"
"Maybe you're not trying hard enough."
"…Do you want me to try harder?" Jabber asked. He slid his hands up so they were cupping Zanka's waist, and he felt his breath sharpen.
"You're awful."
"'s that a 'no'?"
Zanka hesitated. Doing anything with Jabber was a bad idea, and he'd probably taken it to far already. Jabber was a lunatic, completely undignified, and a Raider. He knew that. But he also hadn't felt like this before— the feeling of being pressed into and held by Jabber was amazing, and, God, the thought of those hands wandering somewhere else was sending chills through his body and heat to his stomach. This was a bad decision, and he was going to make it anyway.
"No," he said.
"'s it a 'yes'?" Jabber asked, tilting his face down closer.
Zanka sucked in a shallow breath. "Convince me."
As soon as the words were out, Jabber's lips were pressed against his. They were softer than he expected, though the force behind them wasn't. He knew Jabber had wanted this (he wasn't blind), but he suprised himself at the raw desire coming from himself. He pushed into the kiss, tilting his head to get better access to Jabber's mouth.
He pulled away for a breath, then went right back. Grabbing the nape of his neck, he forced Jabber closer as he took his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, elicting a soft groan from him. Jabber opened his mouth wider, shoving his tounge into Zanka's mouth and— fuck, was that a tounge piercing? God he needed this man.
Zanka pulled back, breathless, and challenged, "That all that mouth of yours can do?"
Jabber grinned. "Not even close," he said, and took Zanka by the hand. He began to dart out of the crowd, shoving through people until they broke free, and Jabber pulled him through a door he'd barely noticed. As soon as the door shut behind them, he pushed Jabber against it, trapping him between his body and the hard wood behind him.
He pushed his mouth into Jabber's, desperate for the reconnection. Jabber complied, opening his mouth and allowing Zanka in. His hands roamed, finding hold in his dreads and the fabric of his shirt, pulling both of them closer. He bit his bottom lip again, harder this time, until it drew blood. Jabber whimpered something incomprehensible as he swiped the blood up with his tounge, reveling in the taste of his pain.
Jabber pushed back on him, and they half-stumbled across the room before the back of Zanka's legs hit the edge of a bed that Jabber lifted him to sit on. With one hand still firmly on his waist, he drug the other one lower, down to his hips and then to his upper thigh, rubbing small circles with his hands. Even through the layer of fabric Zanka could feel the warmth and intentionality of his movements, and it sent butterflies to his stomach.
Slowly, his hand began to move deeper into his inner thigh, then down past his stomach between his legs. His fingers rubbed into him, searching for something. Without warning, he found what he was looking for, shooting sparks into Zanka's vision and making him sigh a groan into Jabber's mouth.
Jabber pulled back from the kiss, looking at Zanka with a look of wonder and hunger. "Damn, you've got a pretty voice," he praised.
Zanka felt his face flush even more as his heart skipped. "Shut up," he snapped, dragging Jabber back into the kiss. He felt Jabber grin against it.
Jabber continued to stroke him, but it was softer than his lust-filled brain wanted. Each drag across his clit sent shivers down his spine, but it wasn't enough— he needed more and he needed it now.
Zanka began to buck his hips up into Jabber's touch, earning him a giggle and an "eager, much?" from Jabber. He decidedly ignored him to focus on the growing high he was getting. He grabbed harder at Jabber's hair, no longer paying any attention to the kiss, his mind clouded with the feeling of his hands.
Then, Jabber pulled away his hand.
"What the fuck?" Zanka demanded, pulling back from the kiss.
"Calm down, baby, I'm 'bouta make 't better~" Jabber purred, his hands moving to undo his pants as he planted kisses down Zanka's jaw and neck to placate him. Zanka huffed and let him continue, moving his hand from Jabber's shirt to the fabric of the bed below him.
The air was strikingly cold against his bare skin, and he shivered slightly when Jabber hoisted him up to slip his pants down to his ankles. But before the cold could set in, Jabber's hands did, roaming his lower back and thighs and making him shiver for an entirely different reason.
Jabber pulled his mouth away from his neck, and kneeled to be eye-level with his stomach, where he promptly put his mouth. He traced his tounge down his v-line into his bush as one hand moved to thumb at the growing wetness between his legs. Zanka let his head fall back into a sigh, though he made sure to keep a tight grip in Jabber's hair.
Jabber moved his mouth downward again, now starting to nibble at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh as Zanka began to grip the sheet under his hand. Jabber moved his hands again, now sliding up to grip into his hips as he began to move his tounge into Zanka.
The rest of the world faded into oblivion as Jabber swirled his tounge and that god forsaken piercing against him. He groaned at the feeling as Jabber licked a line upwards, swirling his tounge around his clit, careful not to touch it.
"mmh— fuck, hurry up," Zanka ordered, impatient. It was so good, and, god, he needed more.
Jabber obeyed, swiping his tounge across his clit and God, Jabber hummed. He yanked Jabber's dreads, pulling him closer as he grinded against his mouth, brain going white from pleasure. His thighs involuntarily closed on the sides of Jabber's head, only encouraging him.
He was barely aware of himself moaning and cursing, and for the first time in his life he didn't care what he looked like right now. His head spun, the feeling of Jabber's tounge against him, consuming every thought until he couldn't think at all. The only thing in his mind was the relentless drive to get more, more, more—
He didn't process the orgasm until he was riding the high that came afterwards and Jabber was licking it up like he was thirsty for more.
"Freak…" Zanka said, only half there as he released his deathgrip on Jabber's dreads.
"Eh, you like it," Jabber responded, and if it would have been any other time, Zanka would have slapped him across his stupid, smug face. Instead, he just hummed and let the waves of dopamine flow over him as he slumped to lie on his back.
Eventually, Jabber finished whatever he was doing and laid down on the bed beside him, softly kissing him when Zanka turned his head to look at him.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," he said after a moment and Zanka melted into the words.
"How beautiful?" he asked.
"Prettier 'n the sky afta' a storm."
Zanka smiled and kissed him again.
They laid there for a while as the world came back into focus, muted music starting to seep into his senses. He might have fallen alseep, but he realized that his legs really were quite cold, and stood up to pull his pants back on. Jabber watched him, eyes flicking over his movements with lazy satisfaction.
When he turned around, he found Jabber staring at him, smitten. "What's that for?" Zanka asked.
"Aw, nothin'. Just thinkin' 'bout your voice. Didn't know I could make ya that loud withou' pissin' ya off."
Zanka felt heat rise to his cheeks in embarrasment. "I can still kick your ass," he bit back.
"Yea, yea, I'm sure—" Jabber was cut off as the door opened.
"Oh, there you are," Enjin said.
Zanka looked back at Jabber in disbelief. "YOU DIDN'T LOCK THE DOOR!?"
Jabber grinned sheepishly.
Enjin looked between the two of them, and said, "Zanka, did you really start a fight already?"
Jabber cut in. "Oh, we weren't fighting—" this time he was cut off by Zanka fullfilling his earlier desire to slap him in the face.
He stormed out of the room and made a beeline for the exit. By the time he made it back to the car, Enjin had caught up to him.
"I told you you'd have fun," he said loftily. "Granted, not exactly what I had in mind, and I think we're gonna have to talk about this when we get back because—"
"Shut. Up."
Enjin threw his hands up in a 'whatever' motion, and Zanka climbed in the back seat and slammed the door.
Beside him, Riyo was wearing a pair of sunglasses he was confident she hadn't walked in with, through which she was giving him a suspicious once-over. In the front seat, Semiu was ignoring him to count a stack of bills.
Zanka leaned his head against the window, suddenly feeling exhaustion crash into him as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. He closed his eyes, and became the first person to ever fall asleep with Enjin behind the wheel.