Chapter Text
Your hands were tangled deep in his hair, the strands messy and dark between your fingers. Every tug, every shift of your palms against his scalp seemed to draw out a low, guttural sound from his throat that he couldn't quite suppress. His grip on your waist tightened in response, his hands anchoring you to him as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.
The chaos of the base felt a world away, only minutes ago, you had both managed to slip away from the celebration beginning in the dining hall, dodging the loud laughter and the clinking of glasses. You had hurried through the dimly lit corridors until you reached Zanka’s room.
The moment the door clicked shut, he leaned his back against it, barely taking a second to prop his staff against the wall before his hands found their place on your hips, pulling you flush against him.
Now, the muffled echo of music and distant voices filtered through the metal of the door, but it was nothing more than white noise. Your entire world had narrowed down to the weight of your body against his, the heat radiating from his skin, and the frantic, hungry rhythm of his lips against yours.
Zanka’s breath hitched as he trailed his kisses down the line of your jaw, eventually burying his face in the crook of your neck. The sensation of his lips against your skin sent a shiver through you, a mix of heat and ticklish delight that made you gasp.
Your hands wandered, fingers fumbling with the fabric of his clothes, desperate to bridge the gap between you. But before you could make any progress, his hands moved and he caught your wrists in a firm but gentle hold, guiding them away from his chest and pinning them lightly to your sides. You pulled back, your chest heaving, and fixed him with a look of reproach.
"You always do this." You accused, your voice breathy and strained. "You start these things, but never finish them."
He looked down at you, his face flushed, his usual stoic composure cracked by the same desire burning in you. He took a steadying breath, his thumbs stroking the insides of your wrists.
"First off..." He began, his voice rasping. "You start these 'bout just as often as I do, so don't you go pinnin' that all on me." He paused, his gaze softening with an intensity that made your heart race. "And second... it's not that I don't want to. I want it more than anything, but I’d prefer our first time to… not be in the headquarters, you know?"
"We barely get any chances as it is!" You countered, a note of frustration leaking into your tone. "Between the missions, training, and the Raiders attacking more lately... when else are we supposed to find a moment?"
You’d been together for several months now, what started as lingering glances and teenage blushes when you crossed paths, had finally turned into something real, partly thanks to the relentless meddling of Riyo and Enjin. You had taken your time, growing comfortable with the small touches and the quiet intimacy, until you both knew you were ready for the next step.
The only obstacle was the building itself, you’d think concrete walls would provide some semblance of privacy, but in this part of the base, the walls felt like they were made of paper. Sounds echoed in the vents and vibrated through the stone in a way that made privacy a luxury you didn't have.
You stared at Zanka, trying to stay frustrated, but the sight of him disheveled, breathless, and looking at you with such sincerity, made it difficult. You wanted to drag him toward the bed, explore every inch of him and feel his touch without any barriers, you were already running through a list of arguments to convince him.
But before you could speak, he released your wrists and moved his hands up to rest firmly on your shoulders. Zanka’s gaze softened as he noticed the lingering frustration in your eyes, but his grip on your shoulders remained steady, grounding the both of you. He sighed, a tired but affectionate sound.
"Look." He murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We got that mission at the end of the week. I was thinkin'... once we're done, I could find a place for us to stay in Gisamon. We can take the following day off, away from the base."
You tilted your head, looking at him with a healthy dose of skepticism. "In the city?" You asked, a playful but doubtful arch to your brow. "Do you know a place like that in Gisamon? It’s not exactly known for its… hospitality."
Zanka shifted his weight and raised a hand to the back of his neck, awkwardly rubbing the messy, dark strands you had just finished deconstructing. "I'll... I'll figure it out." He muttered, looking everywhere but at your eyes. "I'll ask 'round, just leave it to me, alright? I'll find us somewheres decent."
You gave a reluctant nod, letting out a huff of defeat, but you weren't ready to leave just yet. "Fine, but at least I’m staying the night."
A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Of course." He said simply, then turned toward his weathered dresser, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out one of his own oversized black t-shirts.
You smiled back at him as you took the fabric, you knew for a fact he had a few of your own clothes tucked away in that drawer from previous nights, but you always went for his. There was something about the size of his clothes and the faint, lingering scent of incense and iron that made you feel closer to him.
The room was dim, lit only by a small industrial lamp that cast long, flickering shadows against the concrete walls. As you changed into the shirt, Zanka stripped out of his heavy tactical gear, leaning his Lovely Assistaff carefully against the bedpost, always within arm's reach, before sliding under the heavy blankets.
A long, bone-deep sigh escaped him as his body finally hit the mattress, the exhaustion of days of combat and training finally catching up to him.
You climbed in beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight. The sheets were cool and you immediately curled into his side, resting your head on his chest. His arm draped over you instinctively, pulling you in until there was little space left between you.
"That mission took way longer than it should’ve." You whispered, tracing patterns on his arm. "If Rudo just hadn't dragged us to every single candy stall on the way back, we wouldn’t have been out there for an extra hour."
Zanka let out a dry, raspy chuckle that vibrated through his chest against your ear. "Tell me 'bout it. Kid’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach when it comes to that junk. Told him if he didn't pick a bag of sweets in the next five seconds and get his butt in the car, we were gonna leave him there to walk back on his own."
The memory of a grumpy Zanka threatening to abandon a sugar-high Rudo made you both break into a quiet, tired laughter. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a comfortable, heavy warmth.
In the quiet of the room, with the distant thumping of the party still humming through the floorboards, you finally felt his heartbeat settle into a slow, steady rhythm, lulling you both toward sleep.
The following morning, the sun fought its way through the narrow slits of the window blinds, casting thin, golden bars of light across the room. The dust motes danced in the air, but the harsh glare was enough to pull you from your sleep. Blinking away the grogginess, you started to turn over, only to feel a heavy, warm weight anchoring you in place.
Zanka was lying face down, his skin glowing softly in the morning light. One of his arms was draped firmly over your waist, holding you close even in his sleep. His usual frown had completely vanished, his expression smoothed out, looking younger and strikingly peaceful.
His lips were slightly parted, and each slow, rhythmic breath he took puffed softly against the pillow. You couldn't help the small, fond smile that tugged at your lips, it was rare to see him this vulnerable.
You considered closing your eyes and drifting back to sleep in his warmth, but your stomach had other plans. A loud, demanding growl echoed in the room, reminding you had skipped dinner and making you let out a soft, frustrated groan under your breath.
Moving with agonizing slowness, you carefully slid out from under his arm, making sure not to move the mattress too much. You took one last look at his sleeping form before tiptoeing across the cold floor, putting on shoes and grabbing your Vital Instrument from where it rested, feeling its familiar weight. After deciding you’d deal with returning to your own quarters to change later, the mission right now was to find food for yourself and a sleeping Zanka if possible.
The corridors were eerily silent, it wasn't a surprise since the revelry from the night before had likely left most of the Cleaners dead to the world. You made your way toward the dining hall, expecting to have the place to yourself, but as you pushed the heavy door open, the smell of fresh brew hit you.
Riyo was sitting at one of the long tables, looking remarkably energized. She was nursing a steaming cup of coffee, lazily flipping through a glossy magazine about urban streetwear and weapons aesthetics. When she spotted you, her eyes lit up and she raised a hand in a cheery wave.
"Morning, sunshine! You’re up early." She chirped.
"You’re one to talk." You replied, your voice still a bit husky from sleep. "Didn't expect to see you here yet."
"Yeah, well, wasn't feeling great last night, so I ducked out pretty early." She explained with a shrug.
You nodded, offering a sympathetic hum as you ducked behind the heavy curtain that separated the dining area from the kitchen. You set to work, pouring yourself a much-needed coffee and scouting for something to eat.
"I didn't see you at the party at all yesterday, by the way!" Riyo’s voice called out from the other side of the curtain.
You emerged from the kitchen, balancing a cup and a plate with a golden, flaky croissant. You forced a casual smile, trying to keep your cool. "Yeah, I was just exhausted, wanted to get to sleep early, you know?"
Riyo didn't say anything at first, she just watched you walk toward the table, her gaze traveling from your messy hair down to the hem of the shirt you were wearing. A wicked, knowing smirk began to spread across her face. As you sat down and took a deliberate, slow sip of your coffee, she leaned forward on her elbows.
"Nice shirt." She said, her voice dripping with playful mischief. "Is it Zanka's?"
You looked at her over the rim of your mug, Riyo’s smirk only widened as she watched you try to maintain your composure. She leaned back, tapping her chin with a manicured fingernail, her eyes dancing with amusement.
"You know…" She started, her voice a sing-song lilt. "Never would’ve guessed he was the type to share his clothes, he usually gets so prickly if anyone ever touches his stuff.”
You felt the heat finally reach your ears, but you managed a dry look. "It was just the closest thing within reach, Riyo. Don't read too much into it."
"Oh, I'm reading plenty." She giggled. “I mean, it looks way better on you than it does on that grumpy one, though."
Deciding a change of pace was necessary before she could dig any deeper, you took another bite of your croissant and gestured toward her coffee. "So, what does your day look like?"
Riyo let out a long, dramatic huff, throwing her head back slightly. "Ugh, don't remind me. I’ve got a mission in one of the nearby border villages, some minor trash-beast infestation. It’s more of a chore honestly, but with any luck, it’ll only take me half the day, and I can spend the rest of the afternoon actually relaxing."
She took a sip of her drink and tilted her head at you. "What about you? Got anything better planned than chasing pests?"
"Well…" You replied with a shrug. "Zanka wants me to run some spar with Rudo today. He’s been adamant about the kid gaining more experience in close-quarters combat."
"Poor Rudo." Riyo joked, though her eyes showed she agreed with the necessity of the training. "He has no idea of what awaits him."
"So yeah, it’ll probably be a long afternoon of sweat and bruises." You said. "If you finish your mission early and find yourself dying of boredom, you should swing by the training grounds."
Riyo’s grin returned, this time more genuine. "I might just take you up on that."
You gathered the empty plates, heading back into the kitchen, the hiss of the coffee machine filled the small space as you prepared a second mug, once it was ready, you pushed back through the curtain.
"Guess I’ll see you later, Riyo." You called out, offering a small wave with your free hand.
"Yeah, good luck with the training!" She shouted back as you stepped out into the hallway.
The walk back to Zanka’s room was much shorter than it felt. When you reached the heavy door, you nudged it open with your shoulder, the aroma of the coffee preceding you into the room.
The scene inside was vastly different from the one you had left, Zanka was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched slightly as he worked a soft cloth along the length of his Vital Instrument.
At the sound of the door creaking open, he froze, his head snapping toward it. The moment his eyes landed on you, still clad in his oversized shirt and carrying the mug, his posture relaxed. A genuine smile tugged at his lips, warming his sharp features.
"Good morning." He said, his voice still carrying a hint of morning rasp. "I was just about to head out and look for you."
You walked over and held out the mug. "Saved you the trip, I figured you’d need this."
He reached out, his large hand brushing against yours as he took the cup. He took a long sip, the heat of the caffeine seemingly bringing him the rest of the way to life, before setting it down on the cluttered nightstand and looking at you again. “Thanks.”
You sat down on the edge of the mattress beside him, the bed dipping under your weight. Leaning in, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, catching the faint scent of the polish he used for his weapon.
"I ran into Riyo in the dining room." You told him, watching as he picked up the cloth again. "We were catching up for a bit while I grabbed this." Zanka’s hand paused for a fraction of a second at the mention of Riyo, a look of slight apprehension crossing his face.
"I can only imagine what she had to say 'bout you walkin' 'round in my clothes." He let out a low, weary hum as he leaned his Lovely Assistaff back against the wall and ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the messy bedhair.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the hem of the sleeve on your arm. "She’s never going to let us hear the end of it, is she?"
"Probably not." You admitted with a light chuckle, leaning your shoulder against his. "But it's worth it, besides, she’s busy today, heading out to a border village for some pest control."
You stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the quiet before the day truly began. "Speaking of the week... how does your schedule look? Are you going to be around much? I was planning on heading down to Hole Town on Wednesday to pick up some supplies and a few things I've been eyeing, wondering if you wanted to come with me."
Zanka’s expression shifted, a small flash of regret crossing his eyes. He reached for his coffee again, taking a slow sip as if weighing his words. "Wednesday? Shoot, I can't."
He sighed, leaning back on his elbows. "Enjin pulled me aside yesterday. The Boss got word of a potential Raider sighting a couple of days ago, he wants us to head out and investigate, make sure they aren't setting up a scouting post."
"Another one?" You asked, your brow furrowing. "They're getting annoying."
"Yeah..." Zanka agreed, his voice hardening with his usual professional edge. "That’s why I want you working with Rudo today, better to know the kid can hold his own in close combat."
Your schedule was getting really busy this week, you had your drills with Rudo today and Wednesday evening when you got back, a patrol shift on Tuesday and Thursday, and then the joint mission at the end of the week. Between his briefings with Enjin and your training sessions, the gaps of free time were becoming frustratingly small.
"It’s going to be a long week." You murmured, looking at the calendar pinned to his wall, which was already covered in scribbled notes and mission markers.
Zanka shifted, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. He pressed his forehead against yours, his gaze intense and lingering.
"But we’ll get through it." He whispered, his voice dropping to that rough, intimate tone that always made your heart skip. "Just focus on the training, stay sharp on your patrol... and keep Friday night open, ‘kay."
And just like that, the following days blurred and you found yourself counting down, having to settle with stealing some heated kisses behind closed doors and sleeping side-by-side in the narrow beds of your quarters.
When the day of the joint mission finally arrived, you were one of the first to climb into the back of the jeep, and once everyone was loaded in, the vehicle roared to life, bumping along the uneven terrain toward the contaminated zones. The mission was straightforward, eliminating a pack of trash beasts that had been terrorizing passing merchants for weeks.
You settled into the back seat, leaning your head against Zanka’s shoulder, the journey was filled with overflowing energy, though conversation was a struggle over the blaring music Enjin had pumping through the speakers. Still, time passed quickly and before long, the jeep ground to a halt at the edge of the sighting zone.
The atmosphere shifted instantly, you hopped down from the vehicle, the dry, metallic scent of the wasteland filling your lungs. You pulled your mask over your face, the filters clicking into place, and performed a final check on your Vital Instrument. In the distance, a thick cloud of dust and smoke began to rise against the horizon, the pack was approaching.
Zanka stepped up beside you, his hand tightening around the grip of his Lovely Assistaff. He glanced at you through his own gear, his eyes searching yours as if asking if you were ready.
Instead of a serious nod, you leaned in close, your voice a playful whisper that only he could hear beneath the howling wind. "So... did you actually find us a room?"
Zanka practically recoiled, jumping back a few steps as if he’d been struck by lightning. Even through the grit and the shadows of the wasteland, you could see the crimson flush exploding across his face, reaching all the way to the tips of his ears and hidden a little bit by his own mask. He looked around frantically, his eyes darting to the others to make sure no one had caught your words.
A few yards away, Riyo was busy chatting with Rudo, gesturing wildly about some combat maneuver, while Enjin was focused on giving final instructions to Gris and the rest of the supporters.
Realizing the coast was clear, Zanka let out a long, shaky exhale. He turned back to you, the blush still burning fiercely on his cheeks, and gave a stiff, jerky nod of confirmation.
You grinned behind your mask, the thrill of the upcoming fight mixing with a different kind of excitement. You stepped forward and gave his shoulder a firm, encouraging pat before walking toward the front line.
"Well then..." You called out, stretching your arms as the roar of the approaching beasts grew louder. "We'd better finish this quickly, since I’ve got plans."
With a sharp click, you activated your Vital Instrument, the power humming through your veins just as the first of the beasts broke through the smoke.
The battle was more of a chore than a challenge. While the sheer number of beasts was daunting, they were small, skittering things, weak compared to the monstrosities you usually faced. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and disintegrating trash as the pack thinned out.
You pivoted, your Vital Instrument humming in your hand, scouting for any stragglers, feeling confident, perhaps too much so. The adrenaline thrumming in your veins, distracting you just enough to miss the shadow lunging from behind a pile of rusted scrap metal.
By the time you heard the hiss, it was too late. The beast was mid-air, its jagged claws aimed straight for your side. You didn't have time to dodge, so you gritted your teeth, bracing your body for the impact and preparing to counter-attack the second it hit you.
But instead of the sharp sting of claws, you felt a sudden, violent shove.
You were sent sprawling across the sand, rolling a few times before coming to a stop. Gasping for air, you scrambled to sit up, eyes darting back to the spot where you’d been standing. There you saw the beast, or what was left of it, dissolving into black.
And not further from it, Zanka was on one knee, his breathing heavy. His staff lay in the dirt a few feet away, and your blood ran cold when you saw the deep, jagged crimson line tearing through his sleeve, dark red began to soak into the fabric, dripping onto the earth.
For a few seconds, you were frozen, the sound of the wind whistling through the wasteland the only thing you could hear. It was only when you saw Tomme scurrying over, already pulling rolls of bandages and antiseptic from her kit, that the spell broke.
"Zanka!" You scrambled to your feet and ran to him, dropping to your knees right in front of him. Your eyes were wide, fixed on the wound with sheer terror.
He looked up at you, his face tight with pain, but his first instinct wasn't for his injury. "Are you alright? Did it hit you?" He asked, his voice strained but genuinely worried.
The fear in you suddenly curdled into a sharp, hot flash of anger. "What the hell were you thinking?!" You snapped.
Zanka blinked, caught off guard by the venom in your voice. "What?"
"Pushing me and taking the hit… are you insane?!" You yelled, gesturing wildly at the blood.
Tomme worked quickly, her hands a blur as she cleaned the gash and wrapped it tightly with bandages, Zanka winced as the antiseptic stung, but he kept his eyes on you. Once Tomme finished and gave a small nod, you stood up and held out a hand to help Zanka up. He took it, his grip still strong, but as soon as he was on his feet, his jaw set in a stubborn line.
"What did you expect me to do?" He countered, brushing dirt off his pants with his good hand. "Just stand there and let ya take the hit?"
"Yes!" You fired back instantly. "I’m the one who messed up, I got distracted, so I deal with the consequences! That blow wouldn't have killed me, Zanka, and I had a plan to take it down right after!"
Zanka stared at you for a few moments, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "A plan? Your plan was to be a punchin’ bag? Like you’ve said, the wound ain’t even fatal."
"Are you serious right now?!" The argument was escalating, your voices echoing off the metal husks around you, until a heavy hand landed on both of your shoulders and Enjin stood between you, looking back and forth with a tired but amused expression.
"Alright, alright, lets save the domestic dispute for the base." He said, his voice booming. "The area is clear and the kids are getting restless, so let's move out."
Reluctantly, you both fell silent, the walk back to the jeep was tense, the air between you thick. You climbed into the back, taking your usual spot, and Zanka sat heavily beside you, his bandaged arm resting carefully in his lap.
The engine roared to life, and as the jeep began the bumpy journey back to headquarters, the silence between you felt heavier than any noise Enjin’s radio could produce.
The rhythmic jolting of the car felt harsher now, mirroring the turbulence in your chest. You stared out at the passing ruins, the silence between you and Zanka ringing louder with every second. Your anger was already beginning to dissolve, leaving behind a cold, hollow pit of guilt.
You hadn't meant to yell, nor turn your fear against him. But seeing him on the ground, the blood soaking through his sleeve... for a heartbeat, your world had tilted, you had imagined the worst.
In this world, even a "non-fatal" wound could still be the beginning of the end, and the thought of losing him was more than you could handle. You had to talk to him, to explain that you had shouted because you were worried, because you cared.
As the jeep rumbled through the outskirts of Gisamon, you leaned forward and caught Enjin’s attention.
"Enjin, hey." You called out and he lowered the volume of the radio, catching your eye in the rearview mirror with a curious hum. "Can you drop Zanka and I off here? We’ve got some errands to run. We’ll make our own way back to base tomorrow."
Zanka’s head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with surprise. "Wait, here? Now?"
Enjin looked at the two of you through the mirror, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. He didn't ask for details, he just pulled the jeep to the side of the dusty street. "Sure thing, don't do anything I wouldn't do… actually, forget that. Have a good time, kids."
You hopped out of the back, and Zanka followed more slowly, a faint blush creeping up his neck as Riyo whistled from the passenger seat. You offered a quick wave to the crew before the jeep roared away, leaving the two of you in a cloud of settling dust.
Once the vehicle had vanished around a corner, you turned to Zanka. He looked lost, standing there with his bandaged arm and his Vital Instrument.
"Well?" You asked softly. "Which way are we going?"
"You... you still wanna go?" He stammered, his confusion evident, he hesitated, then pointed down a side street toward a more established-looking district. "It’s that way, about three blocks..."
Without a word, you reached out and gently looped your arm through his good one, leaning into him. He stiffened for a second, then relaxed, guiding you through the winding streets. He kept glancing down at you, his mouth opening as if to speak, but you kept your gaze fixed forward, the tension still simmering.
When you arrived at the building, you were surprised, in a world of grime and rust, this place looked remarkably well-kept. The stone facade had been scrubbed clean of the usual soot, and the windows were intact.
Inside, the reception area was small and dim, smelling of old paper and citrus. Zanka handled the check-in and the clerk handed over a heavy brass key without a second glance.
You walked down the carpeted hallway in silence until you reached the door. When Zanka unlocked it and stepped aside, you caught your breath.
The room wasn't extravagant, but for the Ground, it was a marvel. The floor was made of polished dark wood, and a large, inviting bed sat in the center, covered in clean, ivory linens. To the left, a sturdy desk sat under a window that actually looked out over the city rooftops. There was a small wardrobe and, most importantly, a separate door that led to a private bathroom.
The door clicked shut behind you, Zanka took a moment to look around the room, but eventually, his gaze drifted back to you.
You let out a long, weary sigh and turned to face him fully. "How’s your arm?" You asked softly, your voice finally losing its edge.
He watched you cautiously, as if checking to see if the storm had truly passed. "Much better." He replied, his voice low. "The throbbin's stopped, it hardly hurts now."
"Can I see it?" He nodded silently and you stepped closer, reaching out to help him carefully peel back the layers of his tactical gear. As you eased the fabric over his shoulder to expose the bandage, your breath hitched.
Seeing the white gauze already stained with a bloom of red made your chest tighten with a fresh wave of guilt. You bit your lip unconsciously, the pressure so hard that a tiny, metallic drop of blood bloomed on your skin.
Zanka’s free hand moved instantly, his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, catching the drop of blood and forcing you to release the grip of your teeth. He looked at you with an expression so full of concern it made your heart ache.
"I'm sorry." He murmured, you looked up, meeting his eyes, and he continued. "I didn't mean to go and scare ya like that, didn't mean to make you worry."
You leaned into his touch, resting your hand over his on your cheek. "I’m sorry, too." You whispered. "I shouldn't have yelled, I didn’t mean to be so angry with you when you were the one hurting."
Zanka shook his head slowly. "I mean… if the roles were reversed... I probably would’ve lost my mind."
You lowered your hand, letting your fingers rest feather-light against the edge of his bandage. "I just can't stand the idea of you getting hurt on missions." You admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I hate it."
A small, tender smile touched his lips. "The feeling is mutual." He took a half-step closer, his heat radiating through his clothes. "But we’re Cleaners, we ain't always going to come back without a scratch. And if I have to choose... I’d choose a million times over for it to be me instead of you."
The honesty in his voice was overwhelming, you could see the depth of his feelings reflected in the dark intensity of his eyes. Without thinking, you drifted closer, the distance between you vanishing.
"Just don't let it become a habit." You whispered against his lips.
Then, you closed the gap, the kiss was slow and deep, you leaned your body into his, feeling the solid strength of his chest, while his good arm found its way to the back of your neck. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you flush against him as if he were trying to memorize the very feel of you.
You stayed like that for several minutes, lost in the quiet sanctuary of the room and the taste of him, until the need for air finally forced you to pull back just an inch, your foreheads still resting together.
Just as Zanka began to lean in again, his gaze dropping back to your lips, you pressed a finger against his mouth to stop him. A playful but firm smile tugged at your face.
"Hate to be the one to break the mood..." You murmured. "But we’re both covered in sand and smell like garbage, so we should probably clean up."
Zanka blinked, the haze of desire clearing just enough for him to realize you were right. He let out a soft, rueful huff and stepped back, nodding in agreement. "Fair point, do you want to go first?"
You shook your head, gesturing toward his bandaged arm. "No, you go. Do you need help with the bandage or... anything else?"
He glanced at the door and then back at you, a bit of his usual stubborn pride returning to his eyes, though it was softened by a flush of color on his cheeks.
"I can manage." He gave you one last, lingering look, before disappearing into the bathroom and clicking the door shut.
While the sound of the pipes groaning and the water running filled the room, you walked over to the bags you had dropped by the door. You knelt and began rummaging through Zanka’s pack, pulling out a fresh change of clothes for him to sleep in. You folded the clean fabric neatly and walked over to the bathroom door, knocking softly.
"Zanka? I'm leaving your change of clothes right here by the door." You called out over the sound of the shower.
"Got it! Thanks!" His muffled voice drifted back, sounding a bit more relaxed now that the hot water was doing its work.
With him occupied, you decided to make use of the time. You slipped out of the room, heading back down to the street to find some proper supplies, after walking for a few minutes, you found a small, cramped shop that smelled of herbs and old chemicals.
The vendor tried his luck, attempting to triple the price of the items you needed, but you weren't exactly in the mood for games. After a brief, sharp exchange that left the man grumbling but compliant, you walked out with the bandages, a fresh bottle of antiseptic, and some pain relief medication, just in case.
On the way back, the savory scent of roasted meat and spices caught your attention. You stopped at a small street stall, buying two generous portions of rice topped with grilled meat and charred vegetables, the steam rising warmly against the cooling evening air while returning to the building.
When you finally reached the room again, your hands full of bags, you paused. Before you could even reach for the handle, you heard a sudden commotion from inside, a heavy thud and the sound of hurried footsteps. Just as you were about to turn the knob, the door swung open with a violent jerk.
Zanka stood there, looking breathless and frantic. He’d managed to change into the clothes you left him, his dark hair still damp and clinging to his forehead, dripping slightly onto his collar. The moment his eyes landed on you standing in the hallway, the sheer panic in his expression melted into profound relief.
"You're here." He breathed, his shoulders dropping as he let out a jagged sigh. "I came out of the shower and the room was empty. I thought... I don't know what I thought."
You looked at him, heart softening at how quickly he had leaped into ‘protector mode’ the second he thought you were gone. "I just went to get us some dinner and something for that arm." You said with a gentle smile, holding up the bags.
He stepped back, his frame momentarily blocking the warm light of the room before he gestured for you to enter. You set the bags on the scarred wooden table, the thud echoing in the quiet space. Turning back to him, you let your eyes travel to his arm, your voice softening.
"How’s the wound looking?" Zanka didn't argue this time. He gripped the edge of his sleeve and pulled it up over his shoulder.
The skin was scrubbed clean from the shower, but the sight made you wince slightly, the area was a blooming, angry red, and a thin bead of blood was already beginning to sluggishly track its way down his bicep from a deeper jagged edge.
"I got the filth out, at least." He muttered, though his jaw remained tight.
You reached into the bag, pulling out the rolls of white bandage and the bottle of antiseptic. The sharp, medicinal scent cut through the aroma of the grilled meat. You held them out toward him, tilting your head.
"Think you can manage the wrap yourself? Or do you want me to do it?" Zanka looked at the bandages, then at you.
He seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat, until finally, he took the supplies from your hand, his fingers brushing yours briefly.
"I can manage fine, you should get in the shower while the water is still runnin' hot." You gave a small nod and walked over to your bag, pulling out a fresh set of clothes.
Before heading into the bathroom, you pointed toward the table. "There’s pain relief in there, and I got water in the food bag. Drink it, Zanka. Don't make me nag you."
He offered a ghost of a smirk, a bit of his usual spark returning. "Got it."
The shower was like a sanctuary, you stood under the spray until the scent of iron, dust, and the city’s grime was replaced by the faint, floral scent of the cheap soap provided. By the time you stepped out, dressed in clean fabric and towel-drying your damp hair, your muscles had finally stopped trembling from the day's adrenaline.
The room was dimly lit, the only sound was the low hum of the city outside. Zanka was sprawled across the bed, his legs hanging off the edge, his boots discarded on the floor. He was shirtless, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
The white bandage was wrapped firmly around his arm now, stark against his skin, an open bottle and the small box of pills opened sat on the nightstand. You walked over, the floorboards creaking softly, and sat on the edge of the mattress beside him, the heat radiating from his body.
"How’re you feeling?" You asked softly.
Zanka didn't answer with words at first, instead, he shifted, his hand sliding across the sheets until his palm rested firmly on your thigh. His thumb began a slow, rhythmic stroke against the fabric of your pants, a grounding gesture, as if he needed it to believe you were actually there, safe and within reach.
"Better." He rasped, his eyes fixed on yours, dark and unreadable. "Much better now."
Zanka shifted his hand slightly on your thigh, his gaze dropping for a moment as he spoke. "Maybe we oughtta just... rest." He murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "After everythin' that happened today, I reckon the best thing would be to just crash and sleep until noon tomorrow."
You looked down at him, searching his face and reaching out, your fingers hovering near the edge of the fresh bandage. "Is the arm bothering you that much? Is it uncomfortable?"
He shook his head, a small, reassuring huff escaping his lungs. "It’s fine, honestly, it only stings if I press right on it, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s not about the wound."
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You leaned in just a fraction closer, lowering your voice to a playful, challenging whisper. "Are you backing out of your word, Zanka?"
The effect was instantaneous as a flush crept up his neck, dusting his cheeks with a visible heat. He looked away for a split second before meeting your eyes again, his bravado crumbling into something much more honest and raw.
"No." He said, his voice dropping to a low, rough timbre. "If you’re... if you're still okay with it... I’d really like to take advantage of having this room."
Instead of answering with words, you moved.