Chapter Text
Zanka was panting after another meeting with a walking decayed corpse. He holds his staff firmly as he gains back his breath slowly, still on guard, the zombie's brain covering the floor.
It had been 2 years since the world apocalypse started. A single error from a famous lab and the whole globe was now infected by decaying corpses walking around.
Some were still conscious of their situation and will talk with you normally, or use their new skills to feed their morbid curiosity. Even though this consciousness was rare, Zanka met a few over the years.
And one of these geniuses was right in front of him.
Messy dreadheads mixing with blood and dirt. His skull is completely open, letting his brain on full review. He was unconscious after the blond slapped his weapon on him for the 100th time.
It's been a few weeks this guy was following him now, stalking him even. Their first encounter was simple: the zombie was chasing for a good fighter, the man kicked the life off him and that's it. That's been enough for the corpse to grow an obsession about him.
Zanka was taken back at first when the boy came back to life, not used to seeing any zombies coming back to life after he killed them for sure.
The man introduced himself as Jabber Wonger, and immediately begged for more. The boy tried to run away obviously but he always happens to find him.
So they made a deal. Zanka would beat his ass every two days and Jabber would help him without complaining.
Now, he was there. Legs trembling after another intense battle, shaky breaths, too much energy into those dumb fights that made him euphoric every time Jabber fell dead on the ground.
There's only the sound of his breath before the light skin giggles, and pulls his head up to meet Zanka's eyes, glowing with rage and hate. It makes him even more exalted.
“Oohhh, man! You hit me so good it gets me every damn time…”
He slowly sat up, blood covering his already deformed face.
“Yer fuckin’ degustin’.” Zanka snaps, slightly relaxing as he takes out a tissue to gently clean Lovely Assistaff.
“Ya still there, tho.” Jabber smirks, the hateful glare he gives him makes it wider. Zanka huffs, sliding his loved stick into his back and walks away without looking back.
—
Both men were eating silently. At least for one. Zanka made himself some soup with the rest of yesterday, as for Jabber… He luckily found a human corpse in the small apartment they entered by effraction two days ago and eats it slowly everyday.
He ate so loudly, the human thinks. His teeth click every time he chews, slurps and hums every second making it insufferable for Zanka.
“Man yu’ shuld reallyy taste it, it’ deluchious!” Jabber mumbles as he takes another bite of the arm already half eaten.
Zanka didn't respond, only eyeing the man like he insulted his whole family tree and frowns.
“Hey I've a question,” The dreadhead begins, pausing to suck his thumb. “What were you doin’ before the apocalypse? Like study and stuff.” He asks with curiosity.
“...Student.” Zanka's short reply didn't seem to satisfy Jabber as he continued.
“What major??” He completely forgot his food by the time and had his eyes only focused on the fighter, savouring his own food.
“Secondary education.”
“Wowow!! That's a surprise! Mr. Bad attitude studying education major?!” Jabber tried to picture the grumpy man in front as someone helping people but burst into laughter instead.
“Tch. What was yer major then, asshole?” Zanka questioned back, already pissed off.
“Biology, of course!”
Zanka frowns and sighs “I shoulda expected tha’. Ya and yer love for yapping about stupid poison.” He takes his empty bowl and goes to wash it.
The apartment was really tiny, only separated with two rooms. One with the bed, a small kitchen and a messy desk. The other was the bathroom, small too. It made sleeping harder, since both wanted to have the bed and fight for it every damn time. Tonight was Zanka's turn, for his earlier win.
Jabber's gaze follows him the whole time, analysing his silhouette. Loose blue t-shirt with a couple of white pajamas pants he found on the closet. His hands, so raspy but delicate when touching his adored stick.
“I thought you were more into economics or somethin’” Jabber smiles, he stretches before getting up, abandoning the corpse's arm on the bloody carpet.
He didn't have a direct reply, only an eyebrow raising from Zanka. The zombie got a little closer, feeling silly. He puts himself behind the shorter and impulsively wrapped his arms around his waist. The other jolts at the unexpected movement, freezing in place. The exposed bone that tickles his side immediately sends an alarm into his body and instinctively kicks Jabber's foot.
A crack.
“ARGH!” Jabber yelps and steps back, falling into the floor pathetically. He pressed hard on his broken foot. “That hurts you sadist!!”
“Ya were beggin’ for it.” Zanka turns around, only pure disgust twisted his face.
After a few shaky respirations, Jabber looks up at him. Their eyes met and he noticed another emotion in those blue eyes filled with rage.
“You're a freak. Zanka, my friend…” Jabber smiles suddenly, he places himself on his knees. He wraps his arms around Zanka's leg this time, his cheek gently rubbing against the pants fabric. “You’re just like me…Hehe..” He giggles into pure fantasy, his foot’s pain already in the past.
“Whatcha yappin’ about again?” Zanka could only assist his strange behaviour with confusion. He tries to get away from his grip, pull him away but nothing works.
“Stop droolin’ on me, ya fuckin'!—” The blond grabs Jabber's hair, trying to get him off, as the other licks his leg like it's some kind of lollipop. He started to panic when the older began to chew his pants.
“Hey! Don't ya dare bite me ya, skuzzball!!!” He puts his hand into his wide open head and squeezed his cerebrum as hard as he could.
Jabber's reaction was immediate, he screams, grabbing Zanka's hand, letting him go in the process.
“Aw aw aghh!!” Zanka finally lets go, and stumbles into the floor a meter away from the panting man.
They rest silent for a while, processing the moment. Nobody tried to break the silence, only blue and magenta staring at each other were enough to know everything the other was thinking.
“That hurt.” Jabber groans, his hand pressing into his red skull.
“Ya were about ta bite me. Ya deserve it.” Zanka explains himself.
“I wasn't! Even though I'm sure you taste really reallyyy good, sweetheart…” He smiles weirdly, sliding a bit closer.
“I hate ya.” Zanka didn't move, glaring at him.
He didn't speak, only leaned closer so they were a few centimeters apart. Their breaths mixing together, their eyes locked into each other and the unspoken tension between them.
“Mr. Bad attitude. Could I have a taste of you?” The living corpse asks finally, his pain combusting into envy.
“Politely?” Zanka raises an eyebrow, his eyes glowing with a new intensity.
“Mr. Bad Attitude! Could I have a taste of you, please?” He adds, lips twitching with impatience.
At the second the dirty blond nods, their lips are being slapped together. Jabber kisses him hungrily, his hands drifting below Zanka's t-shirt. Zanka answers willingly, hair grabbing his locks and pulling them. Tongues shoved into each other's mouths, dancing and fighting together.
Zanka groans at the nicotine's taste, teeth entirely rotted and pierced tongue knocking his perfectly white teeth. They moaned closely, living wet kisses into the other lips.
Arrived the moment they broke apart to take their breath back. Jabber groans at Zanka's decision and grabs his waist with both hands. The shorter’s hands drifted into his bare shoulder, eyes fleeing confrontation. Jabber chuckles, putting their forehead together.
“I knew you tasted good.” He concluded