Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You drank his coffee, didn’t you,” Riyo asked him, already looking like she was bored out of her mind.

“Did you take me for the type of person to toss away perfectly fine coffee?”

“Now every time you buy from there, you’ll have to remember his dreamy eyes.”

“He’s not dreamy.”

Riyo downs the last of her drink. “You need to pay me to listen to the rest of this.”

“I’ll get you another one.” Zanka promises, looking down at the plastic cup in his own hand. He can’t even remember what was in it and everything tastes mildly of sugary drink and alcohol, watered down from the melting ice.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Riyo nods once, then sways in place a few times to the music of the bar. She leans forward again. “So? What happened then?”

Zanka felt worse than before the nap. He can’t comprehend anything that Jabber’s putting down on his notebook, the lines and shapes connecting single letters a completely foreign art to him. It looks like a different language–it probably is, considering one name takes up nearly a whole line anyways. Jabber’s handwriting is surprisingly clean, Zanka remembers from staring at his papers from class, but seeing it in a different subject matter makes it new somehow.

Jabber seemed familiar with the content as always. Supporting his chin on his left thumb, the inside of his pointer finger pressed into his top lip. Zanka held the coffee cup in hand, watching Jabber work through a reaction. His hands are larger, the silver rings fitting over his second knuckle shining as he writes. So he does have his own pencil. His bones are more pronounced anyways, Zanka wonders, glancing down quickly at his own. The protrusion of Jabber’s wrist rolled toward the table, strings of ligaments and vessels popping out of the back of his hand. Jabber seems to have a lot of jewelry on him and Zanka wants to know if his bracelets are from the same place as his rings.

“Yes?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought you had something to say.” Jabber turned toward him, his lips still resting against his finger. Zanka couldn’t help but look down, only to see them twist into a smile.

“Get up. I’m going back to my room.” Zanka announced, shoving his laptop and notebooks into his bag.

“What’re you going to do when you get there?”

“Study without random people interrupting me.” The end of his laptop charger was plugged under Jabber’s side of the seat. Not wanting to pull on the other end and risk damaging the wires, Zanka gritted his teeth and leaned toward Jabber while reaching down. He wiggled the plug free and straightened up as quickly as possible, slamming his back against the couch in the process.

“Jeez. I was going to protect your head while you come up, but guess not.”

He’d rather not spend any more time with his face next to Jabber’s lap if he can help it. Zanka zipped up his bag and waited impatiently for Jabber to get out, which apparently was taking the other man five business weeks. Jabber stood close, one hand around the edge of the table reflexively. Zanka pushed past him, feeling the other man’s interested gaze on the side of his face.

“Your coffee.” The coffee cup was handed toward him, his own name in clear display. Zanka can almost figure out which barista wrote it down. What would it look like if Jabber was…

“You can have it.”

Jabber looked like he had something inappropriate to say but decided against it, his grin seeping deeper. Zanka sighed, taking the coffee cup from his hand. “Hey, Zanka. You’re kinda pretty.”

“What—” taken aback, Zanka winced. “Ugh, no. That won’t work on me.”

“Just making an observation.” Jabber inhales, stretching a little. “I’ll see you in class.”

“I don’t know, it sounds like he’s got game. You’ve actually never been this down bad before.”

“I’m not down bad!”

“Yeah right. Maybe you’re just easy.” Riyo looks away, but something quickly catches her interest. “Zanka. What did you say he looks like again?”

“...tall, long locks with golden hair rings, silver rings and bracelets…wait, why?”

“He’s right there, isn’t he?”

Zanka turns around slowly. And sure enough, there he is, leaning against the bar counter talking with someone. Whoever he’s talking to must be a lot smaller than he is; his head is bowed, hair shielding his face from Zanka, who is already warm from alcohol and can’t seem to do anything except stare.

“Not the worst looking…Oh, he’s talking to a girl though.”

Zanka has never seen Jabber around girls. He stands up instinctively to take a look, and with some shuffling around the crowd, he finally sees a dark blue head bobbing. He can’t see Jabber’s face and he can barely hear Riyo telling him to sit back down. Zanka, you need to wait, or something like that. Yeah, right. He knocks back the rest of his drink and crushes the cup in his hand.

“I’ll get you that drink,” Zanka whispers half to himself and takes off. 

It doesn’t take him long to shove between people and get to Jabber’s side. He’s never seen this girl before, her small frame nearly swallowed up by the customers around her. Her sharp, yellow eyes focus on Zanka in an instant. Their conversation comes to a halt as one of the participants has identified the new visitor. Jabber follows her gaze and turns around. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Zanka says curtly, still looking at the girl. She is unflinching in Zanka’s line of sight, which somehow irritates him more. “And you are?”

“Oh, I see what this is.” She sighs. “Cthoni. Nice to meet you too.”

Zanka is feeling out of himself. He squints a little, pressing closer to Jabber. He’s lightheaded and he blames this on the anger that’s suddenly coming from out of nowhere. “Who are you?”

“Who…” The girl who introduced herself calmly seems to be regretting her choice. “I’ll leave you to it, Jabber.”

“Wait! You should answer other people’s questions before leaving, you know.” Jabber calls out after her, but she has already chosen another corner of the counter to close out her tab, it seems. Zanka tries to go after her and Jabber catches his wrist in his hand.

His hands really are bigger. Those fingers can curl around the entirety of his wrist and Zanka suddenly forgets the beef he has with the girl. The bartender looks around just in time for him to yell out “two tequila sodas”.

“Zanka. I thought you’re twenty?”

“Riyo knows some people here and they let me in.” Zanka looks at Jabber. The lights of the alcohol shelf behind the counter illuminate in his eyes and he feels the world sway. “Who was she?”

“She’s a grad student at our school and we’re in the same lab.” Zanka must have wobbled, because Jabber reaches out a hand to steady him. “A friend, I guess?”

“Oh.” Zanka tries to play off his relief. It wasn’t anyone…like that, to him.

“Are you sure you should be drinking those tequila sodas right now? How many have you had?”

Zanka takes this question very seriously and works through it in his head. “Two.”

“You lyin’. You’ve had more than that.”

“I’m fine.” Zanka takes a step back and nearly stumbles again; Jabber watches him, amused. 

“At least close out your tab.” Jabber looks down at the two drinks delivered and takes one from Zanka, who can’t really mind at this point. These cups…they’re kind of hard to balance. Is it poured too close to the top? It didn’t seem that way, but one piece of ice still tumbles out of the edge and falls to the floor anyways. Zanka fumbles for his card with his other hand and Jabber took it for him when he finally produced it.

“This Riyo…where are they? You need to go home.”

“I’m not going home.”

“Okay.” Jabber nods. Zanka gets closer to him just to hear him better, and he thinks Jabber asked, “where would you rather go then?”

“Somewhere with you.”

“Oh, so you’re drunk drunk.” Jabber laughs out loud and bends forward, eyes still filled with laughter when he stops and turns to look at Zanka. “Let’s tell this Riyo that we’re going then.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Jabber hands him the receipt and the card for Zanka to sign, then hooks onto his waist and pulls him to his side. “Don’t run away now.”

“I won’t,” Zanka says, taking another swig of his drink, nearly losing some to the front of his shirt. Being next to Jabber feels nice and he lets himself lean on him a bit, his groggy mind returning to that second before waking up, with his face on Jabber’s shoulder. No wonder he slept so well.

Zanka leads them back to Riyo, who looks the slightest bit uncomfortable. If Zanka was any more sober than he is at the moment, he would be able to see that Riyo’s trying to figure out the few crucial questions such as who and how. Jabber sets down her drink. “It’s what Zanka got you, picked it up right from the barkeep. I’m gonna bring this guy home now. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Riyo collects herself and takes a sip out of the drink to let them know the message was received. 

“I live in —-building. The name’s Jabber Wonger. Ask the office if anything.” Zanka’s eyes are closed as he hears the next sentence rumble from Jabber’s chest. “I’ll return him tomorrow…before noon, hopefully, but no guarantees.”

“You can do whatever you want,” is what Zanka thinks he heard her say, but he can’t be sure. His cup is taken from his hand next and this finally alarms him enough to confront Jabber.

“You’ll thank me in the morning, I promise.”

“I can finish it,” Zanka grabs for the cup again only for Jabber to dodge his reach with ease. “Give it.”

“You’re getting one sip max,” warns Jabber as he returns the cup. Zanka flips him off, then chugs it as fast as he could. “...Alright. That works.”

Zanka swallows, reaching for Jabber’s hand. They move away from the center of the bar and Jabber starts to call for a ride. The noises and the music all fade away behind them, with only Jabber’s touch grounding him to the floor. Zanka feels like floating, his thoughts quiet, leaving him enjoying the sensations of his body: the lingering taste of the drink, the speeding beat of the music, and his crush in front of him.

“Seven minutes,” Jabber leans toward him to tell Zanka.

“Ok.” He could really care less. They stopped by the front door and a few people stumbled across on the opposite side of the glass into cars with double blinkers. The streets are still and the air looks cold; Zanka pushes the door open and feels the draft blowing in, hearing some hushed exclamations around him. 

“If you’re gonna do that, we can just wait outside,” Jabber tells him and closes the door behind them. The cold night winds wrap around Zanka’s body and pull, dragging some excessive warmth from him. But soon he starts to feel cold and shivers uncontrollably, as if his body doesn’t know when or how to stop. “I’m cold.”

“Which is why I wanted to wait inside,” starts Jabber, but Zanka only shakes his head until he makes himself dizzy, which wasn’t difficult to do considering his current condition. “It won’t be long now.”

He wished he had felt him a bit longer that day in the library. Zanka has dreamed of it, again and again in his room, only to wake up alone and confused. The pride that he always held close to him screams at him to stop, to stop wasting time and focus instead, or to feel the fire of revenge a bit stronger. But Zanka thinks it never died down; it’s too much for him to handle, and fueled by alcohol while chilled by the wind, he feels like he can afford to get a little closer.

Zanka goes for it, hugging Jabber tight in his arms, burrowing his face close against his neck. Warmth explodes from within him even though it was only his skin saved from the cold and Zanka shivers violently again, like his frozen fingers tended to do after spending some time in doors. Jabber’s body feels good against him and he feels for the lean muscles of his back, then to the tight tuck of his waist; but eventually Zanka settles for just holding on and keeping his face down. He knows what he’s doing, which just makes it so much worse, but he just doesn’t have it in him to control himself. “Hold me, please,” he whispers, the sound still too loud without the booming music from inside the bar.

Jabber turns them around so Zanka’s shielded from the wind and a hand rests in the middle of his back. “You don’t gotta say ‘please’ with me.”

Zanka thinks he’s ready to cry.

TBC.