Stupid janka scenario where when Jabber’s off duty, his favorite shirts to wear are plain ones with stupid shit in big block lettering on the front. He’ll go about his day in a big T-shirt that says “I ❤️ MILFS” or “WHITE BOY OF THE YEAR” with no qualms. He thinks it’s funny as fuck. Zanka hates them and thinks they’re corny.
Ok now picture this. Zanka and Jabber in a secret relationship where Jabber sneaks into Zanka’s room whenever he has time. Sometimes they fight, sometimes they fuck, sometimes they get high together. Honeymoon phase or whatever.
On this particular night, an off-duty Jabber knocks on Zanka’s window with a ziploc of edibles and a shirt that reads “CHOKING HAZARD” with a downward pointing arrow right below the words. Zanka nearly kicks him out, but Jabber always weasels his way in somehow, so about half an hour later they’re both in the clouds, making out on Zanka’s bed.
Jabber takes that god-awful shirt off. Soon, Zanka’s is gone too, and things are getting hot. They’re pressed up against each other, chest to chest, Jabber’s hands fisting in Zanka’s hair—
Zanka’s head snaps to the side, staring at the door.
“Yo, Zanka?” Enjin’s voice wafts through.
Another set of knocks.“You awake?”
Jabber giggles, and Zanka slaps a hand over his mouth, trying to figure out whether or not he should answer. Eventually, he does, eking out a “yeah, gimme a second!” While he pries Jabber’s legs off from around his waist.
He motions for Jabber to go hide behind the other side of the bed as he grabs his shirt and hastily puts it on, trying to gather his thoughts so he can function like a normal human being in front of his mentor.
Zanka opens the door, and the light from the hallway hits him like a fucking flash bang. He squints, hoping his reaction isn’t too obvious.
“Okay, so, don’t kill me,” Enjin says, “But I was finishing up the report from our mission today and I accidentally. Erased like. Half of it. So can you come downstairs and…Hm. What a shirt you got on there.”
Zanka, who wasn’t really paying attention to half the shit the man in front of him was saying, looks down at himself.
It’s Jabber’s stupid fucking shirt.
Zanka closes his eyes and heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “This’s…it ain’t mine.”
“Whose is it, then?” Enjin asks, his voice filled with mirth.
Zanka…is really not equipped to come up with an excuse. His brain feels like it’s leaking out of his ears.
“Listen,” He starts, trying really hard to blink normally. “I’m…really tired…so…”
“Yeah, bet you are. You even on this planet right now, kid?”
Zanka looks up, and Enjin’s lips are pursed like he’s trying not to laugh. Yeah, he knows. This is going to be so fucking embarrassing in the morning, but Zanka cannot do this right now.
“…No. Talk to you tomorrow.” And then he closes the door.
A few seconds go by. Enjin laughs once, and then his footsteps patter away from Zanka’s room. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jabber starts giggling deliriously like a fucking maniac.
Zanka turns back around, watching Jabber’s silhouette climb back up onto his bed, then collapse onto it in a fit of giggles.
“Yo, he’s funny,” Jabber spreads himself out while Zanka takes off the offending piece of fabric and twists it up until it’s one long rope, “I knew my shirt was swag, don’t even—“
He’s cut off by Zanka strangling him with said shirt. At least it’s useful for something.
