Chapter Text
Underneath his usual manic bravado, Jabber was feeling something that could only be described—by his own chaotic standards—as pure, unadulterated nerves. Clutching a massive, beautifully decorated pastry box tightly against his chest, he carefully protected the elegant logo of the high-end bakery where he had actually purchased it.
Because against all odds, Jabber had paid for this with real currency.
When Chtoni—the fierce Omega he viewed as the closest thing to an older sister, if not a mother—found out he was planning a gift for his beloved Omega, she had given him a brutal, ear-blistering scolding the moment he casually mentioned stealing something nice. Jabber could honorably admit that, in that moment, he had felt exactly like a scolded cat caught breaking a priceless vase.
Chtoni had made it terrifyingly clear: if Zanka ever found out his gift was stolen, the proud Cleaner would reject him without a second thought. Driven by a desperate cocktail of fear and absolute determination, Jabber had forced himself to act like a normal person—or at least, as close to normal as his wiring allowed. He had marched right into the bakery to buy an absolute mountain of the specific desserts he was certain the strongest Omega he knew would love.
Zan-Zan deserved nothing less than the absolute best.
To ensure he hit the mark, he bought ten different sour pastries, making sure some carried that perfect, sharp bittersweet edge. But he hadn't stopped at food. Tucked safely in his gear was a stunning necklace bearing a deep blue gemstone. In the right light, the stone cast a brilliant, fierce glow that instantly reminded Jabber of Zanka's eyes whenever the young Omega summoned his beautiful Jinki. Jabber had no clue what the rock actually was; at first, he thought it was a diamond, but now he was pretty sure it was lapis lazuli.
To his absolute surprise, the gift-giving endeavor had drawn even more unexpected attention. When his Bossman—the undisputed holder of the title of "Strongest Omega Jabber Knew," with Zanka currently a very close second—heard about the plan through Chtoni, he actually offered some rare, tactical advice. He told Jabber that if he wanted to survive entering that sector, he needed to bring a peace offering for Mary Poppins.
Which brought Jabber to the three premium, high-end packs of cigarettes currently tucked under his arm. Something about that tall, stoic Alpha practically screamed that the guy loved to smoke.
So, there Jabber was. Dangling precariously off the structural wall of the Cleaners' base, he waited with agonizing patience for the older Alpha he mentally categorized as his beloved's second father to finally leave. He carefully shifted the weight of his offerings, already making a mental note that next time, he would definitely need to bring an even bigger haul.
He was currently anchoring his entire weight to the brickwork with just a single hand on his Mankira, his other arm securely cradling the massive pastry box. He kept his feet tucked in tight, hyper-aware of the window just below him, completely silent as he listened to the muffled conversation above.
The moment he finally heard the heavy metallic click of the door closing and the steady footsteps of the older Alpha fading away, Jabber's head snapped up. A massive, triumphant grin split his face beneath his visorless gas mask, entirely prepared to swing over the railing and make the most dramatic, breathless entrance of his life.
Instead, his eyes locked directly onto his target.
Perched right there on the ledge, looking down at him with an utterly flat, bored, and completely unsurprised expression, was Zanka.
...For the second time that night, Jabber felt exactly like a cat caught on the kitchen counter.
"¡Zan-Zan!~"
Jabber’s enthusiastic shout hung in the cool night air, but Zanka didn't move a single millimeter. He just stayed there, leaning loosely against the iron railing, looking down at him with those sharp blue eyes and an expression of absolute, deadpan boredom—as if watching a dangerous invader dangling from his base's wall was the least interesting event of his entire day.
Ah, Jabber love this man.
It was in that exact moment of silence that Jabber’s usual loud, bouncing chatter died in his throat. Beneath his hyperactive, chaotic exterior, a rare and sudden lull of absolute focus took hold of his mind. Jabber went entirely mute, analyzing Zanka silently, breaking him down with the sharp, innate precision of a predator observing his favorite mystery.
Despite the look of sheer annoyance on the young Omega's face, Jabber began to notice the details. He caught the absolute slightest, almost invisible twitch at the corner of Zanka's lips before the proud Cleaner quickly forced his scowl back into place. But what truly made Jabber’s inner Alpha vibrate with force was the scent. The air was no longer thick with the sharp, cutting defensive tension of wood and incense that Zanka usually released when he was in full combat alert; instead, his pheromones had softened, drifting lazily and receptively across the terrace.
Zanka could try to fake total disinterest with his face all he wanted, but his body language and his scent were telling Jabber an entirely different story: he wasn't going to yell, he wasn't calling for backup, he wasn't summoning his Jinki, and most importantly, he was letting Jabber stay.
A wild spark of pure euphoria and lunacy raced through Jabber's veins.
Before Zanka could break the silence with a biting retort, Jabber executed. With an explosive, absurdly agile movement, he flexed the arm holding onto his Mankira. Using the strength of that single hand, he launched his entire frame upward in a clean, fluid leap, completely defying gravity and the three-story drop at his back. He cleared the iron railing with the effortless grace of an acrobat and, without losing his balance for even a fraction of a second, landed flawlessly right on the concrete cornice right in front of Zanka.
He dropped straight into a casual, crouched sit, his long legs dangling carelessly over the massive drop as if he were relaxing on a regular street curb rather than an enemy military base. What was most impressive was that the enormous, beautifully decorated pastry box remained completely untouched in his other hand, balanced perfectly on his lap along with the cigarette packs.
Jabber tilted his head to the side, instantly closing the distance between them. A massive, triumphant grin split his uncovered face, his dark magenta, utterly manic eyes flashing with intensity as they locked directly onto the Omega's gaze. His sheer presence brought a heavy rush of wild copper, gunpowder, and the unexpected scent of sweets efined sugar, completely wrapping Zanka in his own personal bubble of madness.
Jabber let out a soft, low rumble—the closest thing to a purr a wild Alpha could manage—the exact moment Zanka delicately took the pastry box from his hands, along with the stunning blue necklace. A fierce wave of pride swelled in Jabber’s chest when he caught the beautiful Omega tilting his head, a genuine, albeit faint, smile breaking across his features as he inspected the sweets. Jabber’s inner Alpha practically cheered; he hadn’t missed the mark after all! His choices had been absolute perfection.
Sensing the shift in the air, Jabber smoothly lowered himself from the narrow concrete cornice. Grabbing the iron railing for leverage, he swung his legs back over, landing with a quiet, practiced thud right onto the terrace floor. He stepped up immediately, slotting himself right next to Zanka—elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder. Standing there in the cool night air, completely invading the Cleaner’s space without any resistance, Jabber felt like an absolute king. He had breached the fortress, bypassed the guards, and won the undivided attention of the strongest Omega he knew.
"So, what do you think? What do you think? Do they look good?" Jabber chirped, his previous quiet intensity instantly snapping back into his signature, bouncing energy as he leaned in to look at the open box with him. "I hope you love them, Zan-Zan~!"
Jabber watched Zanka’s fingers hover over the selection of pastries, his own heartbeat thrumming with a frantic, happy rhythm that had absolutely nothing to do with the adrenaline of the climb. Up close, the razor-sharp, defensive edge of wood and incense had completely melted away, leaving behind a soft, mellow warmth that told Jabber he was truly safe right here.
It was a rare, vulnerable sight that made the Alpha's chest feel tight in the best possible way.
"You really went to a bakery?" Zanka asked, his voice low and quiet, completely stripped of the cold, military sharpness he usually reserved for his targets. He pulled the small velvet pouch from the box, his thumb brushing over the cool, deep blue surface of the lapis lazuli stone. "You didn't just... raid the place?"
Jabber let out a sharp, genuine laugh, his shoulder pressing firmly against Zanka’s as he beamed down at him. "I told you, Zan-Zan! I’m a man of my word tonight. I even stood in a line. A real human line! With people and everything." He grinned, his dark eyes crinkling deeply at the corners with untamed joy. "Chtoni was practically ready to take my head off, and the Bossman said that if I wanted to survive entering this sector, I had to stop acting like a total wrecking ball."
Zanka hummed softly, a faint, genuine smile finally breaking through his stubborn facade as he held the necklace up to the pale moonlight. The stone caught the dim illumination of the terrace, shimmering with a fierce, deep glow. Jabber stared at it, then back at Zanka's eyes—yeah, he definitely hadn't been wrong. It was the exact same beautiful, dangerous light.
"Your Boss gave you advice?" Zanka looked up, his expression softening into something deeply curious, almost searching as he studied Jabber’s unmasked face. "You realize how insane this is, right? Enjin is probably losing his mind inside the cafeteria right now, trying to figure out how to track you down. If anyone catches you here..."
Jabber’s grin faded just a fraction, smoothing out into something far more earnest. His gaze dropped to the pastry box for a brief second before locking back onto Zanka’s blue eyes. The wild, chaotic energy was still humming under his skin, but beneath it, a raw, aching sincerity took over.
"I know," Jabber murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that felt incredibly intimate in the heavy silence of the night. "I know I’m a wanted man for your people and I know your crew is supposed to hunt me down because we are some of enemies. But out there in the wasteland... everything is just noise, Za-a-nka. It’s just gray dust, blood, and people screaming. But then there’s you."
He paused, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his sharp features—a sudden, quiet moment of vulnerability from someone who usually lived like a wildfire.
"You are a strong Omega, and I love that about you. I know there are plenty of people out there who are just as strong! But... you simply have something that draws me in, and it's not just because you’re an Omega. Your presence is... better than any poison I’ve ever tasted. Completely addictive!"
Zanka turned his body fully toward him, the last bit of distance between them vanishing until their arms were completely pressed together, shoulder to shoulder. The air around them felt thick, completely wrapped in the heavy, warm blend of Jabber's copper and gunpowder pheromones and Zanka's receptive incense.
"You're a complete idiot, Jabber," Zanka said softly, though his tone was entirely devoid of real malice. He reached out, his hand hesitating for only a split second before he tapped Jabber’s forearm with a gentle, grounding touch. "But... thank you. For the pastries. And for actually listening to them and paying for it."
Jabber felt a massive surge of triumph swell in his chest, his inner Alpha practically howling with victory. He didn't pull away from the touch, nor did he try to ruin the quiet moment with his usual loud shouting. For once, he just let himself exist in the warmth Zanka was willingly giving him, his eyes gleaming with that trademark, beautiful madness.
"Does this mean I get to climb up here again next time, Za-a-nka~?" Jabber purred, leaning in just a fraction closer, a wicked, playful grin returning to his lips. "Maybe next time I'll bring something even bigger."
Jabber didn't even try to hide the sheer, unadulterated fascination on his face as he watched Zanka's reaction.
For a second, the young Omega just froze, his hand still resting gently on Jabber’s forearm. He blinked, processing the utterly unhinged, yet fiercely intense confession that had just come out of the Raider's mouth. Comparing a person's presence to an addictive, high-grade poison was peak Jabber, a textbook display of his beautiful madness.
Then, the corners of Zanka’s lips twitched again—and this time, he couldn't force the scowl back.
A soft, genuine chuckle escaped his throat, followed by a light, breathless laugh that Zanka quickly tried to muffle by covering his mouth with the back of his free hand. It wasn't the cynical, mocking huff he usually gave his targets, nor was it the strained, tired sigh he shared with the crew. It was a real, bright sound, completely unguarded and full of genuine amusement.
To Jabber, that sound was like a physical jolt straight to his nervous system.
His dark eyes went wide, his pupils instantly dilating as his heart did a violent flip inside his chest. He stopped breathing entirely, utterly captivated. If Zanka’s scent was an intoxicating poison, then his laugh was the absolute peak of the high. It was a beautiful, rare sound that Jabber had never heard before, and the instant it hit his ears, he knew he was completely, hopelessly hooked. He wanted to hoard it. He wanted to do whatever chaotic, stupid thing it took just to drag that exact sound out of the proud Cleaner over and over again.
His massive, triumphant grin stretched so wide his cheeks practically ached, his inner Alpha practically spinning circles of pure euphoria.
"Wow, Za-a-nka~," Jabber rasped out, his voice a bit more breathless than usual, a dizzy, lovesick spark dancing wildly in his eyes as he leaned a fraction closer. "You should definitely do that more often. Forget the sweets—that right there? That's the best thing I've heard in the entire sector. Seriously, my ears are vibrating!"
Zanka finally managed to bring his laughter under control, dropping his hand, though a beautiful, lingering warmth remained in his sharp blue eyes as he shook his head in sheer disbelief.
"You really are completely out of your mind," Zanka murmured, his voice incredibly soft as his wood and incense pheromones wrapped fully and comfortably around Jabber’s heavy copper and gunpowder scent. "Come on. Give me the cigarettes for my dad and step away from the ledge before you vibrate yourself right off the cornice."
Jabber’s grin somehow stretched even wider, the dizzying warmth of Zanka’s laughter completely fueling his already erratic battery. He didn't just step away from the ledge as ordered; he used the momentum to turn his departure into a full theatrical production.
He snatched the three packs of premium cigarettes from under his arm, giving them a flashy, rhythmic shake before sliding them into Zanka’s free hand right next to the pastry box. He made sure his fingers brushed against Zanka’s a second longer than necessary, his touch lingering with a deliberate, burning heat.
"Oh, I'm moving, I'm moving, Za-a-nka~!" Jabber chirped, his voice bouncing with an intense, dramatic cadence. He hopped backward with terrifying, zero-gravity agility, landing his boots perfectly balanced on the thin iron top-rail of the balcony. He stood straight up, towering over the terrace, completely unfazed by the lethal drop directly beneath his heels. The night wind caught his clothes, making him look like a dark, chaotic omen framed against the wasteland sky.
He pressed a hand over his heart, throwing his head back with a loud, theatrical sigh that practically echoed into the courtyard.
"But alas! The night is short, your scary dad is hungry for blood, and a good boy must know when to make his grand exit!" Jabber declared loudly, tossing a hand out into the air as if addressing a sold-out theater. Then, just as quickly, the exaggerated drama sharply narrowed into something terrifyingly focused. He leaned his torso forward over the drop, his dark, unmasked eyes locking onto Zanka with a single-minded, razor-sharp intensity that made the air between them instantly go still.
His smile didn't fade, but his voice dropped into a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated with absolute, unshakeable certainty.
"Just remember one thing before I go, Zan-Zan..." Jabber purred, his Alpha pheromones flaring up in one final, heavy wave of copper and gunpowder that aggressively claimed the space around the Omega. "I'm not just playing around, and I'm definitely not just coming here for the thrill of the chase. I am dead serious about making you my partner. My mate. My one and only."
He let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his eyes gleaming with that beautiful, unhinged confidence.
"So keep eating those sweets, keep that pretty blue rock close to your heart, and get used to the storm, Za-a-nka~! Because next time I climb up here, I'm playing for keeps!"
With a theatrical, two-finger salute pressed to his temple and a wild, lovesick wink, Jabber didn't just climb down—he let himself fall backward.
The dramatic exit was going according to plan—until the laws of reality decided to intervene with a heavy hand.
As Jabber tipped backward off the railing, perfectly poised to catch a lower pipe with his Mankira and vanish into the shadows like a legend, the world suddenly shifted from "mysterious rogue" to "absolute slapstick."
CRACK-THUD!
The heavy double windows of the Cleaners' community dining room that's was exactly ne floor down were violently shoved open, slamming against the exterior bricks. Standing there, bathed in the harsh, unflattering fluorescent glow of the base’s interior, was Enjin. The large Alpha’s face was a masterpiece of purple-veined fury, his eyes tracking the falling shadow with the lethal precision of a hawk spotting a field mouse.
Jabber, still mid-air and inverted, found himself staring directly into the blazing, murderous eyes of the man he had just been bribing with tobacco.
For a split second, time hung suspended. Then, Enjin’s roar shattered the night, loud enough to rattle the very foundations of the building.
"YOU ABSOLUTE LUNATIC!" Enjin bellowed, his voice vibrating with the sheer force of a man whose nerves had been completely shredded. "I KNEW I SMELLED COPPER AND STUPIDITY! GET YOUR SORRY ASS BACK HERE SO I CAN LOCK YOU IN A VENT!"
Jabber, instead of fleeing in terror, completely cracked. As he dangled by a single tether mid-fall, he didn't try to hide. He erupted into a fit of genuine, hysterical, wheezing laughter, his eyes crinkling until they were almost shut. He hung there, swinging like a pendulum in the abyss, clutching his stomach as he howled with joy.
"HAHAHAHA! Oh, you’re looking well my future father!" Jabber shrieked back, his voice thick with unhinged glee as he kicked his legs wildly in the air. "I see the cigarettes are a hit! Don't be like that, I'm just stopping by to check on the family! Give me a break, the wedding budget is tight!"
Enjin looked like he might actually spontaneously combust. "WEDDING?! I AM GOING TO USE YOUR SPINE AS A KEYCHAIN, YOU SMILING PIECE OF TRASH!"
"Aww, you care!" Jabber cackled, finally snapping his Mankira line to launch himself into a death-defying, high-speed wall-run away from the building. He didn't even look where he was going, too busy wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "I’ll bring a nice bottle of scotch next time, Father-in-law! Don't you worry about the locks, I’ll find a way in! And consider this just a little preview! Next time I come visit, I’ll bring a much bigger haul! An absolute mountain of gifts for the whole family! Get the wedding budget ready!"
"THERE IS NO DAMN WEDDING! THERE WILL NEVER BE A WEDDING!" Enjin yelled at the top of his lungs, grabbing a heavy-duty wrench from the windowsill and launching it into the darkness—it whistled harmlessly through the air, nowhere near its target.
ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ
Up on the terrace, Zanka stood frozen, clutching the mountain of premium pastries and the cigarettes, watching the ridiculous scene unfold. As Jabber’s fading, manic laughter echoed off the surrounding buildings—followed by Enjin’s muffled, incoherent string of threats—Zanka felt a slow, traitorous, and completely inevitable sigh escape him.
He didn't know whether to hide the pastries, start a war, or just go to sleep. But as he looked at the blue stone shimmering in his palm, he couldn't help but think that, for better or for worse, the quiet days were officially over.
With Jabber gone and Enjin still breathing heavily at the window downstairs, a heavy, comical silence settled over the Cleaners' terrace.
Zanka stood alone under the pale moonlight, the cool night breeze rustling his hair. He looked down at his hands, which were completely full. In one arm, he carefully balanced the large, beautifully decorated pastry box, its sweet aroma still fighting against the lingering scent of gunpowder in the air. In his other hand, he held the three packs of premium cigarettes—Enjin's supposed "bribe"—and tightly clutched between his fingers was the small velvet pouch containing the deep blue lapis lazuli necklace.
Down below, the heavy wooden window frame creaked as Enjin finally pulled himself back inside with the others and Zanka managed to hear the raucous laughter of the other cleaners for a few seconds, but Enjin still muttering a string of colorful curses about reckless Alphas, broken security protocols, and the absolute absurdity of a "wedding budget." The window slammed shut with a definitive thud, and the fluorescent glow disappeared, plunging the courtyard back into darkness.
Zanka let out a long, slow sigh, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. He walked over to the stone ledge where Jabber had been crouched just moments before, looking out into the expansive, shadowy ruins. There was no sign of the chaotic Raider anymore, just the distant, faint sound of metal scraping against metal as Jabber bounced his way across the city pipes, probably still laughing his head off.
“Your presence is... better than any poison I’ve ever tasted. Completely addictive!”
The unhinged words echoed in Zanka's mind. It was a completely ridiculous, dangerous confession, exactly what he should expect from a wanted criminal who had just breached a military base with a single hand. And yet, as Zanka pulled the lapis lazuli necklace from the pouch, letting the smooth, ocean-blue stone catch the starlight, he felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest.
He slipped the necklace into his pocket, readjusted his grip on the heavy pastry box
The heavy double windows downstairs didn't stay closed for long.
A split second after the glass slammed shut, the latch clicked violently open again. Enjin wasn't done. His protective instincts were flaring, and his sharp Alpha senses were still screaming that something—or someone—was entirely out of place.
With a gruff, agitated snort, Enjin leaned his massive torso right back out into the cool night air. He stopped scanning the dark alleyways where Jabber had just disappeared and slowly, deliberately, tilted his head upward toward the terrace. His gaze, sharp and heavy with suspicion, locked straight onto the concrete balcony directly above his head.
Up on the ledge, Zanka froze instantly. He didn't even have time to pocket the velvet pouch or turn toward the door before his second father's intense stare pinned him right to the spot.
Enjin squinted through the dim moonlight, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. He tracked the lingering, thick cloud of copper and gunpowder pheromones drifting off the terrace, and then his eyes dropped to Zanka's arms. There it was: a massive, pristine, undeniably expensive pastry box held carefully in one arm, and three unmistakable packs of premium cigarettes clutched in the other.
The silence that stretched between the two levels of the building was absolutely deafening.
Enjin's eyebrows slowly climbed toward his hairline. The sheer fury on his face briefly gave way to a look of profound, unadulterated disbelief. He stared at the mountain of high-end bakery sweets, then at the tobacco, and finally right into Zanka's stubborn, stoic face.
"Zanka," Enjin rumbled, his voice dropping from a roar into a dangerously low, deadpan vibration that echoed off the brick walls. "Tell me you didn't just let that maniac bribe his way onto our base with a box of frosted pastries."
Zanka didn't blink, his grip tightening just a fraction around the box as he stared back down at him, entirely unmovable. "He paid for them, Enjin."
"I DON'T CARE IF HE SECURED A LOAN FOR THEM!" Enjin's voice cracked, his head shaking in sheer exasperation as he rubbed his temples. "There is still no wedding! Throw those things in the incinerator before I come up there and eat them myself out of spite!"
Zanka didn't even flinch. He just held the pastry box a little closer to his chest, his face a perfect, unreadable mask. "You wouldn't eat them out of spite, Enjin. You'd eat them because you've been complaining about not being able to buy them because you were busy."
Zanka cleared his throat, looking down at the premium cigarettes in his right hand, and then down at Enjin. Without losing his cool, he simply extended his arm, dangling the tobacco packs over the railing.
"Technically he didn't buy gifts just for me," Zanka replied, his voice completely calm but laced with a sharp streak of irony. "The pastries are for me. Your bribe is right here. He said they're your favorite."
Enjin looked like he might actually spontaneously combust. His hands gripped the windowsill so hard the wood groaned, his face flushing a deep, dangerous red.
"I DON'T CARE IF THEY ARE GOLD-PLATED!" Enjin shouted, throwing his hands up in absolute exasperation. "I don't care about the cigarettes! And there is still no damn wedding!..You know what?! Throw those things in the incinerator before I come up there and throw you in after them!"
"You're not going to incinerate anything, Enjin," Zanka sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled the cigarettes back
Enjin let out a sound that was half-growl, half-sigh of absolute defeat. He pointed a thick, warning finger up at the terrace, shaking it menacingly. "Get inside. Now. And if I smell even a hint of that gunpowder idiot in the hallways tomorrow morning I will have a heart attack of pure rage"
With one last disgruntled huff, Enjin grabbed the window frames and slammed them shut with a heavy, definitive thud. The latch clicked shut tightly, and the harsh fluorescent light from the interior finally died, plunging the courtyard back into the quiet darkness of the night.
Zanka sighed deeply as the downstairs window slammed shut with a heavy, definitive thump. He looked down at the massive haul of high-end bakery sweets cradled in his arms, and then at the three packs of premium cigarettes. Knowing Enjin, the older Alpha would spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in his bunk, completely eaten alive by a foul mood, the lingering scent of contraband tobacco, and a bruised sense of pride.
Zanka stood alone for a moment longer, looking at the heavy box of sweets and the smooth lapis lazuli stone hidden in his pocket. He let out a soft, tired chuckle, shaking his head at the absolute absurdity of his life. Between a wild Raider who thought he was a poet and a protective father figure ready to weld the doors shut.
Turning on his heel, Zanka stepped off the concrete terrace and slipped into the dim hallways of the base, keeping his footsteps perfectly silent. Instead of heading straight back to his quarters to hide his loot, he detoured toward the communal kitchen just behind of the chaos in the dinning room were all of the other cleaners still are there.
Once inside, he carefully pried open the lid of the pastry box. The rich, sweet aroma of refined sugar and freshly baked dough instantly flooded the small space. Zanka picked out a couple of the largest, heaviest pastries—the ones with the most flawless frosting—and neatly arranged them on a small plate from the counter. Right beside the sweets, he stacked the three packs of premium cigarettes.
He knew Enjin would never willingly accept a peace offering that came directly from Jabber, but he also wasn't going to let high-quality sweets go to waste over stubborn Alpha pride. He left the plate right in the middle of the communal table with a quick, deadpan note scribbled on a scrap of paper: “For peace. Just consider them a security confiscation.”
Dealing with Jabber’s wild, theatrical antics and Enjin’s explosive shouting all within the span of ten minutes had been thoroughly exhausting. With the pastry box a little lighter and the velvet pouch containing the lapis lazuli necklace tucked safely away, Zanka finally headed back to his own room.
As he walked down the quiet corridor, his fingers absentmindedly brushed against the smooth contour of the blue stone through the fabric of his pocket. Tomorrow, the base would still be a chaotic mess, Enjin would probably smell like expensive nicotine, and Jabber would already be plotting his next dramatic break-in. But for the first time in a very long time, Zanka had to admit that the nights at the base were getting a lot less boring.
The morning sun hit the base of the cleaners with a quiet, blinding heat, turning the floating dust motes into tiny flecks of gold. Zanka walked into the room just for eat the breakfast, adjusting his collar, only to find Enjin already sitting at the heavy metal table.
The plate from the night before sat between them, entirely clean except for a few stray crumbs of sugar. Next to it, the three packs of premium cigarettes were gone, replaced by a half-empty mug of black coffee that was still steaming. Enjin looked completely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes proving he hadn't slept a wink, but the explosive fury from the balcony had vanished. Instead, he just looked incredibly grumpy, a faint, rich scent of expensive tobacco clinging to his heavy jacket.
Zanka walked over to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee, his face an unreadable mask. "You're up early."
Enjin didn't look at him. He just picked up his coffee mug, staring deeply into the dark liquid as if it held the answers to the universe. "Someone had to make sure that absolute lunatic didn't try to climb down the chimney."
"We don't have a chimney, Enjin."
"That wouldn't stop him," Enjin grumbled, finally taking a slow sip. He set the mug down with a heavy click, his eyes shifting toward the empty plate. He cleared his throat, his broad shoulders tensing slightly. "The pastries... weren't completely terrible. The dough was actually decent."
Zanka paused, a tiny, almost invisible flicker of amusement crossing his eyes. "And the cigarettes?"
"A blatant security risk," Enjin snapped immediately, though there was no real bite to his voice. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single, unlit premium cigarette, spinning it between his thick fingers. "I'm keeping them under lock and key. For inspection purposes."
Zanka didn't press the issue. He leaned against the counter, taking a quiet sip of his coffee. But as he looked out the window, his attention was caught by something strange reflecting in the glass.
Stuck to the outside of the pane was a small, bright yellow flower, its stem crudely taped to the glass with a messy piece of industrial adhesive. Dangling from the leaf was a tiny, folded piece of paper, completely exposed to the morning breeze.
Zanka blinked, his hand instinctively dropping to his pocket, where the smooth lapis lazuli stone rested securely against his palm. He didn't need to open the window to know exactly who had left it there in the dead of night, or that his quiet mornings were officially a thing of the past.
Zanka walked over to the kitchen window, his movements smooth and deliberate so as not to draw Enjin's immediate attention. He unlatched the glass, letting the morning breeze rush into the room, and quickly reached out to pluck the tiny, folded piece of paper from the yellow flower.
He unfolded it with one hand, his eyes scanning the chaotic, jagged handwriting that could only belong to one person.
"Good morning, my beautiful Zan-Zan! Did the big grumpy dad like his smoke? I promise to bring a much bigger haul of gifts next time. Miss me already? Don't worry, we will see each other soon— J."
A subtle, sharp shift in the room's atmosphere made Zanka's instincts flare.
"What the hell is that?" Enjin’s heavy voice rumbled from the table.
Zanka turned his head just enough to see Enjin leaning forward, his dark eyes narrowing into a sharp, suspicious glare as he locked onto the scrap of paper in Zanka's hand and in the flower. The large Alpha's jaw tightened, his protective instincts instantly spiking. "Is that from him? Is that piece of trash still lingering around here?!"
Before Enjin could even finish rising from his chair, Zanka’s hand moved in a flash. With a seamless, practiced twist of his fingers, he crumpled the note into a tight ball, brought his lighter up, and struck the wheel. A small flame caught the paper instantly, turning Jabber's frantic words into a flurry of black ash and glowing embers before they could even hit the floor.
Zanka let the last piece burn out against his fingertips, entirely unbothered, and closed the window with a firm click.
"It was just trash blowing in the wind," Zanka said, his voice a perfect, deadpan shield as he turned back to the counter, his face completely unreadable.
Enjin stared at the pile of fresh ash, his chest rising and falling with a heavy, deeply unconvinced snort. He didn't push it, but he aggressively lit his single premium cigarette, filling the kitchen with a thick cloud of expensive smoke as if to reassert his dominance over the room.
Zanka quietly slipped his hand back into his pocket hiding the flower in the process, his fingers brushing against the cool lapis lazuli stone, entirely satisfied with keeping his chaotic little secret to himself for the rest of the day.