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Zanka cranes his neck back, peering at the sky above. The suns come up past the buildings, so… what, it’s been two hours? Three? Since they passed out.
Jabber lets out a soft groan beside him, shifting and nestling his head more comfortably in his neck. Zanka’s eyes flutter shut, dull pain shooting up his limbs from their fight.
“Food,” he murmurs.
“Mhmm…” Jabber mumbles, muffled in his skin. Zanka peers around the street. So they had wandered into town. The people walking give them a wide berth. He doesn’t think they caused that much damage to warrant such a reaction, but maybe it’s because the two of them are covered in blood—how much of theirs is actually on them and not the other, he’s not sure.
There’s a small cafe some shops down. Zanka’s stomach growls. Jabber has fallen back asleep.
He jostles him, earning a displeased whine. Zanka drags himself to his feet, hooking their arms together so Jabber is brought up with him.
Jabber leans his entire weight into Zanka’s side. He grunts, stumbling a bit before steadying both their weights. “Oi,” he complains.
“Yer so comfy,” Jabber hums, cheek squished into his hair, “So… warm.”
“Move yer damn legs.”
“Movin’, movin…”
They trudge their way over to the cafe. Zanka pushes the door open and drops Jabber into the closest booth. He makes a disgruntled noise, then groans. “Watch the wounds… I’ll get fired up again…”
“Masochist,” Zanka mumbles. Jabber just snickers.
Zanka goes up to the counter and orders two drinks, a water and some food, as well as a couple pastries. Then he grabs a shit ton of napkins and heads back to the table.
Jabber perks up at the smell of fresh food. He manages to pull himself up right, quickly slouching over the table, instead. Zanka slides into the booth next to him and pours some water on a napkin.
He cleans his face of the dried, cracking blood, running his tongue over the scab on his split lip. He takes his time, watching Jabber slowly munch away, his eyes still closed.
“Don’ fall asleep with food in yer mouth, aye?” He chides.
“Mhm,” Jabber says, but his eyes stay shut.
Zanka rolls his eyes and wets another napkin. Then he nudges Jabber up and starts cleaning his face, too.
“Mhhh,” Jabber whines softly, hand sliding over his thigh and around his waist, “C’mere…”
Zanka doesn’t protest when Jabber pulls him closer. Their sides press together, warmth and aching wounds pressing against each other. Zanka brushes his dreads back for him and Jabber finally cracks his eyes open.
“You hit harder than last time,” he says, “Been training?”
“I’m never not,” Zanka scoffs, pushing the dirty napkins away. Jabber smiles, endeared.
“Take such good care of me,” he sighs, head dropping onto his shoulder again. Zanka presses his cheek against his dreads and grabs a pastry to sink his teeth into.
Sometime between the eating and mindless chatter, Zanka’s communicator buzzes to life. Right, he was supposed to have come back after dealing with the trash beast, but then Jabber jumped him, and they got swept up into a fight…
“‘M fine,” he mumbles into his bracelet.
“Uh-huh,” Semiu says, unconvinced, “Where are you?”
Zanka wracks his brain for the location of this small town. “Uh… the town about two or three miles away from where the trash beast had been.”
“I’m sending someone to pick you up.”
Zanka glances at Jabber. He’s slowly drinking from a sweet smelling smoothie. “Okay.”
His comms click off, and he yoinks the drink from his hands. “Oi,” Jabber grumbles, but doesn’t protest further when Zanka takes a drink himself.
He lets out a pleased hum, the cool liquid pleasant on his throat. Then he hands it back, and Jabber doesn’t even hesitate to start drinking it again.
Zanka pops some of the food into his mouth, chewing slowly. He’s gonna fall asleep while eating…
“Zan-Zan,” Jabber mumbles, when he leans back and closes his eyes, “Don’ fall asleep on me…”
“Yer the one draped over me,” Zanka points out, like they both aren’t pressed together as close as their bodies will let them be. Jabber nuzzles into his neck, grinning. Zanka tangles a hand in his hair.
They’re halfway to dozing off when the bell chimes and someone clears their throat. Zanka cracks an eye open, still groggy. Jabber’s weight has settled completely against him—he’s out cold.
Enjin stares at him. Riyo and Rudo are behind him, Rudo with a shocked look and Riyo hiding a snicker.
“Whatcha got there?” Enjin asks, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Zanka gives one long, slow blink, and glances at the drink his fingers are loosely wrapped around.
“…a smoothie.”
Riyo bursts out laughing. The noise startles Jabber awake, and his head knocks into his jaw. They both groan in pain.
Oh, right. “Ah,” he murmurs, “You meant…”
“Mhm,” Enjin says, “Let’s go home, Zanka.”
Zanka tries to get out of the seat, but he’s dragging Jabber along with him by the hand on his waist. When they both finally get to their feet, they’re given a once over.
“You look like shit,” Riyo says happily.
“Feel like it too,” Zanka huffs. Jabber keeps his chin hooked over his shoulder. His eyes are slowly coming back into focus, squinting at the cleaners in front of him.
“…wass’good,” he greets finally.
“Uh…” Rudo says, “…hi?”
Jabbed flexes his fingers and closes his eyes again. “Hmmm.”
Zanka trudges out of the shop, Jabber hanging off his back. Then he shoves him in the backseat of the car. Jabber yanks him in with him, and they both sprawl out on the seat.
“Okayyyy,” Enjin says, staring at them, “I guess we’re picking up a stray, too.”
Rudo makes a face, but doesn’t say anything when he’s ushered into the front seat. Riyo takes her place in the back, feet kicked up as Enjin starts up the car.
Zanka can hear Jabber’s heart like this, head pressed against his chest and limbs tangled together. Jabber has one hand secured around his waist, the other limp at his side. The warmth and gentle beating of his heart, mixed with the smooth rumble of the car beneath them, lulls Zanka right back to sleep.
Riyo hands him a picture much later, when Jabber had been kicked to the road once he was awake and energized enough to start making a fuss about fighting. It’s of the two of them, sprawled over each other.
“Ugh,” Zanka groans, cheeks hot, “Clingy bastard.” His friends are merciful enough to not point out his own clinginess—he’d yanked out one of Jabber’s dread cuffs before leaving, after all, to make sure he had to come and find him again.
Zanka finds solace in fighting Jabber, but he admits the quiet they share after a battle has a special place in his heart, too—no matter how much he gets teased or scolded about it.