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Zanka thinks, not for the first time, that he is going to find whoever created the concept of the two weeks between Thanksgiving break and winter break and strangle them thoroughly. He’s averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night, living off of the vending machine and granola bars ever since the food Enjin sent back with him ran out, hasn’t been by the dojo in a week, and hasn’t even started studying for his psych final. He is so fucked.
Not to mention, he hasn’t seen his fuck ass boyfriend in over 24 hours. He…may have snapped at the other and kicked him out of their shared dorm when he had tried to bother him while he was studying one too many times. Not his proudest moment, but Zanka is a weak man and Jabber’s ability to ace exams without ever studying never fails to kickstart his body with jealousy and inadequacy fueled rage. Jabber’s just so full of himself with the smarts to back it up and he just doesn’t seem to understand that Zanka isn’t like that. He’s just average. Either way, he’s much too stubborn to go after him so once he realized his behavior he told himself to just apologize when Jabber came back.
But Jabber had not returned, and Zanka’s brain was already half-convinced Jabber was never coming back or was hatching a plan to humiliate him in front of the dean or something.
Zanka groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s been trying to focus again, but with the way he’s been stuck writing the same sentence for ten minutes, it’s a lost cause. He’ll just take a small break.
Already fearing the worst, Zanka opens their fridge. It’s a pitiful sight. Half a jar of pickles, two tortillas, a stick of butter, and a tupperware of brownies-a tupperware of brownies? Zanka balked. When the fuck did Jabber make these? It must have been him, because Zanka has been glued to his desk for days. Jabber bakes? He’s been holding out on him, what the hell?
And they look like good ones too, a bit crisp on the edges but not too sunken in. A light smattering of powdered sugar on top. Almost unconsciously, he reaches his hand out to grab the container. He pauses.
For a moment, Zanka hesitates. Would it be a dick move to steal Jabber’s food after what he did? Would Jabber get mad?
Zanka thinks back to every time Jabber stole fries off of Zanka’s plate. Snatched his bag of chips forcing him to get another from the vending machine. Looked up at Zanka with innocent eyes as he eats the clearly-labelled-and-not-his leftovers. And then Zanka grabs the tupperware.
He’s just finished off the third and final brownie he’d placed on his plate (sue him for wanting a pig out on a sweet treat. He deserves it and they were really good) when the door opens. He turned from his spot at his desk, and there Jabber is, kicking off his shoes and dropping his backpack on the floor haphhazardly. Normally Zanka would scold him for it, but he seemed to have lost function of his vocal chords. He had thought he was prepared to take the high road and apologize, but with him here he was freezing up. How pathetic. Get over yourself, he thinks.
“Jabber.” Is all he says, and he hates how wistful it comes out, like Jabber’s some fucking soldier coming back from war and not Cthoni’s apartment most likely.
The man turns, flashing a grin. “Hey babe. Miss me? Done with your bitch fit?”
Aaaaand the moment is over. Zanka grits his teeth, about to escalate the situation when Jabber’s eyes drift from Zanka to the plate next to him and he freezes. And not just for a moment, it’s a good few seconds.
“What’s that?” It’s a question, but comes out flat like a statement.
Zanka chances a glance over. Nothing is out of the ordinary, and Zanka is quite meticulous about how things are arranged on his desk. Nothing, except… “Oh. I ate some of the brownes you made. Hope that’s okay.”
Jabber’s jaw dropped. “You what?”
“I only had like, three,” Zanka said, defensive. “Our fridge looks pathetic right now, and you steal my food all the time-”
“You had three?” A hysterical smile begins to worm its way across Jabber’s face, like there’s some joke Zanka hasn’t been let in on yet. “Holy shit. Holy shit.”
“What? What the fuck is wrong?”
Jabber gets up close, grabbing hold of Zanka’s shoulders. He snickers, before leaning in. “Those were weed brownies sweeheart.”
Zanka’s heart drops to his ass. “You’re fucking with me,” Silence for a moment, before Jabber snickers again. “Tell me you’re fucking with me.” The snickering devolves into full-on laughter, Jabber dropping to the floor and definitely annoying the room under them. No doubt they will get another noise complaint.
“This is too good!” Jabber exclaims, wiping away tears. Zanka sits still at his desk, trying desperately to will away a full-on panic attack or shitting his pants because holy shit he accidentally ate edibles oh my god-.
“Jabber,” he urges. “Jabber, I've never been high before. Jabber, how much weed were in those? I ate three what’s going to happen-”
Suddenly Jabber is up again, kneeling and looking up at Zanka. He cups Zanka’s face, digging in his fingers in the way that he knows will ground Zanka. “Chill the fuck out dude, you’re not going to die. I didn’t make them that strong. You’ll just feel a little high, no biggie.”
“No biggie-”
“Jesus, you need it.”
“Fuck you. Who the fuck stores weed brownies without telling the person they live with?” Zanka grumbles, trying to ignore how embarrassing his freakout was.
“Well I was going to, but I seem to remember someone kicking me out before I could,” Jabber says cheekily. “ Don’t worry, I’ll guide you through losing your weed virginity.”
“Don’t.” Zanka chokes out a laugh that he’d normally repress, but he’s still really fucking panicked. “Don’t phrase it like that ya freak. I was going to finish my paper tonight.”
“You’ve been writing papers all week,” Jabber dismisses easily. “Now we can hang out! Like, properly. You need a break anyway.”
-
They had migrated to Jabber’s bed (which was also sort of Zanka’s bed. They alternated between sleeping together on the two beds so frequently the lines blurred) where they watched some random ass reality tv show while he fell into his high. Jabber squeezed his hand or distracted him with commentary whenever his breathing quickened or he became too conscious of himself. Eventually Zanka’s brain slowed into a dreamy haze, his inhibitions lowered and filter gone.
“And-And so Rudo trips… and spills the whole fuckin’ batter, cause he’s a dumbass. And Riyo’s recordin’ the whole thing for her… blog or some shit, and we have to spend another hour cleanin’ and remakin’ the batter for the cake…” Zanka mumbles into Jabber's shoulder. Jabber has quickly learned that Zanka yaps when high, as evidenced by his baking rant inspired by a scene of the show playing. He’s learned more about Zanka’s friends and family in the past hour than he has in the months they’ve known each other. It was mostly silly shit, but still fascinating to hear from the guy who usually has fortified walls up at all times.
“Yea? Did it turn out good?”
“It tasted good… icing looked like shit.” He laughs, and Jabber follows. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, before Zanka began to squirm next to him, something clearly on his mind. Jabber sat patient, knowing he’d spit it out one way or another.
“ ‘M sorry.” Zanka slurs out, leaning so heavily into Jabber’s side one would think he was trying to fuse into him.
“Fuck you on about?” Jabber replies, looking down at him. He pauses the show.
“Fer the other day. I was-” Zanka waves his hand around, uncoordinated, “Bein’ an ass.”
Jabber huffs out a laugh. “You sure fuckin’ were. It’s all cool though. I knew I was testing your patience. You know I like your attitude anyway.”
Zanka lets out a sound that is not a whine. “No-but like-It’s just-’M not… a genius like you.”
“This again? Z, you know-”
“Shhh.” Zanka lifts up a finger to shush him. He misses, finger instead landing on Jabber’s cheek. The other man snorts. “ ‘M not finished. I just get insecure, ‘cause I gotta like…work to not even be half as good as ya…ya really piss me off with that genius shit. But that’s not yer fault ... that ‘m not strong enough to…to…what was I sayin’?”
“Stop. You pitying yourself is a major turn off,” Jabber complains, but there’s a teasing edge to his tone so Zanka knows he’s not shutting him away. “You always go on about this average joe shit like it’s a bad thing. Like your drive to always be better isn’t what drew me to you in the first place. That pisses me off, you like that?”
Zanka giggles. “Yea. We piss each other off…”
Jabber pokes his nose, a delighted sound coming from him when Zanka blinks in surprise. “Wouldn’t have it any other way babe.”
“...Gimme your phone.”
“What? Why?”
‘Wanna doordash sum….freaking starving… aren’t ya hungry too…?”
“I like the way you think, Zan-Zan.”
“Not Zan-Zan.”
“Yes, Zan-Zan.”
-
The next day, after waking up with Jabber on top of him like the world’s most annoying weighted blanket, Zanka is staring in disbelief at his computer screen. It’s… his paper. It’s done. All 10 required pages, and a bibliography. APA citations included correctly. Coherent and with the points that were floating around in his head put into words that make sense.
“I…There’s no way I did this. While high, no less.” He argues weakly, but he knows that’s the only explanation. Jabber would never go out of his way to do his work for him. Not because he’s inconsiderate (even though he is, generally), but because Zanka would never turn in work that isn’t his.
Jabber sits behind him, chin propped up on his shoulder and Zanka doesn’t have to look to know he’s sporting a shit-eating grin. “I’m telling you, you gotta stop with that ‘average’ bs,” He laughs. “Who the hell whips out their computer and writes a paper after downing a burger and fries while absolutely fried?”
“I…” Zanka is left speechless at the situation he’s found himself in. It’s so…stupid, genuinely. All he can do is laugh, small chortles bubbling out of him and snowballing until he’s holding his sides and there are tears streaming down his face. Jabber is quick to join, holding him so he doesn’t fall off the bed. They ‘re rolling in the sheets laughing like a couple of middle schoolers and Zanka knows they need to have a more proper conversation about communication and boundaries and leaving edibles in the dorm unlabelled but for now he’s revelling in the absurdity of it all.
Fuck it, sure. Final #3 complete. Why the hell not? He’ll take what he can get.