Work Text:
Where We Land
The air still smelled like rust and burned concrete.
Enjin sat on a collapsed slab of stone with his elbows braced on his knees, cigarette dangling uselessly between his fingers. He hadn’t lit it. He couldn’t remember when he’d pulled it out - only that it had felt automatic, something to do with his hands now that the fight was over.
It had been typical, that landslide. Cutting them off from the rest of the team and the supporters along with them. The others had gone back to get assistance, while the inside of this old cityscape had essentially become Enjin and Zanka’s tomb. They were encased in a concrete dome, and had no choice but to look for an alternative way out.
The ground beneath Enjin’s perch was silent in that unnatural way that came after violence. No screams, no scrambling feet, no clatter of trash-beasts or debris. Just the distant drip of water somewhere far below and the wind scraping through broken structures.
Zanka landed a few meters away with a light thud, boots skidding slightly before he caught himself. He didn’t say anything right away. He never did, not after fights like this. Instead, he rolled his shoulders once, then again, like he was checking that everything was still attached.
Enjin glanced up at him. “You good?”
Zanka snorted quietly. “You ask that every time.”
“And every time you answer.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Zanka walked closer, eyes scanning Enjin’s silhouette automatically. No visible blood. No limp. Still breathing. Good. “I’m fine.”
Enjin hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. He flicked the cigarette away instead, watching it tumble into the dark.
For a moment, they just sat there - side by side but not touching, close enough that Enjin could feel Zanka’s body heat through the thin layer of dust and fabric between them.
It was a familiar distance. Comfortable. Dangerous, in a quiet way.
“You jumped in too early,” Zanka said eventually.
Enjin smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.”
“That wasn’t a thank you.”
“I know.”
Zanka huffed a laugh despite himself and dropped down beside him, legs stretched out. The silence settled again, heavier this time. Not awkward, just loaded.
Enjin stared out over the wreckage, eyes unfocused. “You took a hit.”
Zanka stiffened. “It’s nothing.”
“Mmh.” Enjin turned his head just enough to look at him. “Your shoulder.”
Zanka followed his gaze, then rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
“Yeah. I know.” Enjin’s voice was quiet. Too quiet. “That’s kind of the problem.”
Zanka blinked, caught off guard by the tone more than the words. He opened his mouth to fire back something sharp, something easy - but nothing came out.
Instead, Enjin stood.
The movement was smooth, unhurried, like he’d made the decision a while ago. He stepped closer and reached out without asking, fingers brushing Zanka’s shoulder with practiced care.
Zanka sucked in a breath.
“Enjin-”
“Hold still,” Enjin said gently.
That was worse somehow. Zanka did as he was told.
Up close, the damage was obvious. The fabric of Zanka’s jacket was torn, darkened with blood that had already started to dry. Enjin clicked his tongue softly and began unfastening the straps with steady hands.
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to.”
The words were simple. Final.
Zanka swallowed and looked away, jaw tight. He hated this part. Not the pain, not the attention, but the way Enjin’s focus narrowed when he was like this. Like nothing else in the world existed.
Like Zanka mattered too much.
Enjin worked in silence, cleaning and binding the wound with supplies he always carried, because of course he did. His fingers were warm, careful, lingering just a second longer than strictly necessary.
Zanka felt every second of it.
“You’re shaking,” Enjin murmured.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Zanka scoffed. “You’re imagining things.”
Enjin glanced up at him, eyes unreadable. “You scared me.”
That shut him up.
The words sat between them, fragile and exposed.
Zanka laughed weakly, trying to defuse it. “You worry too much.”
“Only about you.”
The confession slipped out like it hadn’t been rehearsed. Like it had always been there, waiting for the quiet.
Zanka’s breath hitched before he could stop it.
Enjin finished wrapping the bandage and pulled his hands back slowly, like he was giving Zanka time to run if he wanted to.
He didn’t.
Instead, Zanka reached out and caught Enjin’s wrist.
The contact was light. Intentional.
They looked at each other.
Suddenly the world felt very small.
They didn’t speak as they moved.
Enjin led the way through the broken lower levels, navigating collapsed corridors and twisted metal with the ease of someone who had memorized danger. Zanka followed half a step behind, close enough that Enjin could hear his breathing. It was steady now, thankfully.
Night crept in quietly down here. The kind of darkness that didn’t announce itself, just slowly swallowed the edges of things until the world felt smaller and more fragile.
They stopped beneath what had once been a transit platform. The ceiling was cracked but stable, reinforced by thick beams and layers of junk welded together long ago. Someone had tried to make a home here once.
“Should hold,” Enjin said.
Zanka nodded and dropped his pack with a dull thud. “You always find the least depressing places.”
“I try,” Enjin replied dryly.
They settled in with the routine they’d fallen into over countless nights like this - Enjin checking exits, Zanka setting down what little gear they had, both of them working without stepping on each other’s space.
It felt domestic in a way neither of them ever acknowledged.
When it was done, the silence crept back in.
Zanka leaned against a support beam and exhaled slowly, eyes closed. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving behind the familiar ache in his bones. He flexed his shoulder experimentally and hissed.
“Hey,” Enjin said from across the space.
“I said I’m fine,” Zanka muttered.
Enjin didn’t argue. He just came over and sat beside him, back against the same beam, knees brushing. The contact was casual. Deliberate.
Zanka opened one eye. “You hovering again?”
“Maybe.”
“Thought you trusted me.”
“I do,” Enjin said easily. “Doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”
Zanka closed his eye again. A giddy smile tugged at his mouth despite himself.
They shared a ration in quiet, tearing it in half without discussion. Zanka noticed, not for the first time, that Enjin always gave him the larger piece.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“That.” Zanka gestured vaguely with the food. “Always taking less.”
Enjin shrugged. “I’m not that hungry.”
Zanka snorted. “Liar.”
Enjin’s smile softened, just a little. “Maybe.”
The light faded completely after that, leaving only the dim glow of Enjin’s lighter as he sparked it once - twice - then closed it again without lighting anything. The brief illumination had been enough to remind Zanka how tired he looked. How thin.
“Enjin,” Zanka said quietly.
“Mmh?”
“Why do you keep pushing yourself like this?”
Enjin didn’t answer right away.
When he did, his voice was almost too calm. “Someone has to.”
Zanka turned his head toward him. “That’s not an answer.”
Enjin’s gaze stayed forward, fixed on nothing. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
The silence stretched. Not empty; weighted.
Zanka shifted, then leaned back more fully against the beam. After a second’s hesitation, he let his shoulder brush Enjin’s arm again. This time, Enjin didn’t move away.
“Y’know,” Zanka said, attempting casual, “you don’t always have to be the one holding everything together.”
Enjin chuckled under his breath. “You volunteering?”
“Maybe I am.”
Enjin finally looked at him.
Their faces were close in the low light, expressions softened by shadow. Zanka suddenly felt too aware of how warm Enjin’s arm was, how steady his presence felt next to him.
“I don’t want you getting hurt,” Enjin said.
Zanka blinked. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Zanka shot back. “You think I don’t see it? The way you throw yourself in front of things like you’re expendable?”
Enjin’s jaw tightened.
Zanka pressed on, voice quieter now. “You’re not.”
The words landed hard.
Enjin looked away first.
For a moment, Zanka thought he’d gone too far - pushed past that invisible line they never crossed. Then Enjin exhaled slowly and leaned his head back against the beam.
“Stay,” he said.
It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even a full sentence.
Zanka didn’t hesitate.
He shifted closer, close enough that their shoulders were fully pressed together now, legs touching. The warmth between them felt grounding. Real.
Zanka rested his head back too, staring up at the fractured ceiling. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Enjin’s breath hitched, just barely.
They sat like that for a long time, the sounds of the underground wrapping around them. Drips. Distant creaks. The hum of something alive far below.
Eventually, Zanka’s exhaustion won. His head tipped sideways, coming to rest against Enjin’s shoulder.
He froze for half a second.
Enjin didn’t pull away.
Instead, he shifted just enough to make it easier, his arm lifting slightly so Zanka could settle properly. The movement was careful, reverent.
Zanka let out a slow breath and relaxed.
“This okay?” he murmured, already half-asleep.
“Yeah,” Enjin said, voice low. “It is.”
Enjin stayed awake long after Zanka’s breathing evened out, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. He resisted the urge to brush Zanka’s hair back, to trace the line of his jaw.
He told himself this was enough.
For now.
Enjin woke to warmth.
It took him a moment to place it - the steady weight against his shoulder, the soft rhythm of another person breathing in sync with his own. When he did, his body went still.
Zanka was still asleep.
His head rested where it had fallen hours earlier, hair brushing Enjin’s collarbone. One of his hands had curled loosely into the fabric of Enjin’s coat at some point in the night, fingers fisted like he’d grabbed on without realizing it.
Enjin swallowed.
The underground was quiet in that early, suspended moment before waking. A hush that felt borrowed. He didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe too deeply.
He’d spent so long convincing himself that wanting this - wanting Zanka - was a liability. Something soft that would get them both killed.
And yet.
Zanka shifted slightly, brow furrowing, grip tightening for half a second before relaxing again. Enjin felt it everywhere.
He lifted his hand before he could stop himself, hovering just above Zanka’s back. He hesitated, then let his fingers settle there. Light and careful, like the touch might shatter something fragile.
Zanka didn’t wake.
Instead, he leaned in closer.
Enjin closed his eyes.
“Idiot,” he murmured quietly, not sure which of them he meant.
They stayed like that until the sounds of the underground crept back in - distant movement, the scrape of metal somewhere far off. Reality, intruding.
Zanka stirred, blinking blearily as he came awake. “M’ornin’,” he mumbled.
Enjin hummed. “You drool when you sleep.”
Zanka snorted, lifting his head abruptly. “I do not-”
He froze.
The proximity hit him all at once. How close they were. How warm. How Enjin’s hand was still resting at his back, thumb pressing unconsciously into muscle.
Zanka’s throat bobbed.
“Uh,” he said eloquently.
Enjin realized, too late, that he’d been caught.
He started to pull his hand away, but Zanka caught his wrist, mirroring what he’d done earlier that day.
“Don’t,” Zanka said softly.
The word wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t defensive.
It was asking.
Enjin searched his face. Zanka looked…open. Vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. No jokes. No bravado.
“Zanka,” Enjin said carefully, “if I keep going-”
“I know.”
Silence fell between them, thick and charged.
Zanka released Enjin’s wrist only to shift closer, knees touching now, foreheads nearly brushing. His hand slid from Enjin’s sleeve to his chest, palm resting over his heart.
It was racing.
“Since when?” Zanka asked quietly.
Enjin exhaled, a faint, helpless smile tugging at his mouth. “You really want the answer to that?”
Zanka’s lips twitched. “Probably not.”
“But?”
“But I want you to say it anyway.”
Enjin leaned forward until their foreheads touched, breath mingling. “Since before I was smart enough to stop myself.”
Zanka laughed softly, a sound that cracked something open in his chest. “Figures.”
They stayed like that, sharing breath, sharing space. So close that one wrong movement would change everything.
Zanka’s hand slid up, fingers brushing Enjin’s jaw. The touch was tentative, reverent.
“You scare me,” Zanka admitted.
Enjin didn’t flinch. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Zanka swallowed. “Because if something happened to you-”
“It won’t,” Enjin said quickly.
Zanka shook his head. “That’s not the point.”
Enjin softened. His hand came up to cover Zanka’s, pressing it gently into place. “I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Zanka’s eyes searched his, like he was trying to memorize the truth of it.
“Promise?” he whispered.
Enjin didn’t hesitate. “Promise.”
That was all it took.
Zanka closed the distance.
The kiss was slow, almost hesitant. A brush of lips, testing, asking permission. Enjin responded immediately, hand tightening at Zanka’s back as he kissed him back just as gently.
It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed.
It was earned.
They pulled apart only when the sensations became overwhelming, foreheads still touching, hands still tangled in each other’s clothes.
Zanka laughed under his breath, dazed. “Well. That’s… new.”
Enjin smiled, soft and real. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Zanka said. “More than okay.”
He leaned in again, brushing another kiss along Enjin’s mouth, lingering this time. The heat between them was undeniable now - no longer something they could pretend was accidental.
Eventually, reality crept back in again, unkind but unavoidable.
They rested their foreheads together, catching their breath.
“Later,” Zanka murmured.
Enjin nodded. “Later.”
They both knew what that meant.
They didn’t talk about it.
Not right away.
They moved through the next stretch of ruins with the same practiced ease as always. Watching each other’s backs, trading short signals, navigating danger like it was muscle memory. From the outside, nothing had changed.
From the inside, everything had.
Zanka kept catching himself glancing at Enjin when he wasn’t supposed to. The curve of his shoulders when he walked. The way his eyes tracked movement, sharp and focused. The faint smile he didn’t bother hiding anymore when Zanka said something stupid.
Enjin noticed too. Of course he did.
He noticed the way Zanka stayed closer now, no longer pretending it was coincidence. The way his hand brushed Enjin’s when they reached for the same thing, and the way he didn’t immediately pull away.
They didn’t mention the kiss. They didn’t need to.
It lived in the space between them, warm and steady.
They stopped again when the lower levels grew unstable, ducking into a half-intact room that had once been some kind of storage facility. The walls were lined with old shelves, most of them collapsed, junk spilling out like bones.
“Looks clear,” Zanka said after a quick sweep.
“For now,” Enjin replied.
They settled in more quickly this time. No awkwardness. No hesitation. Like they’d both silently agreed this was their space now.
Zanka dropped down onto a crate and rolled his neck with a groan. “If we make it through one mission without nearly dying, I’m throwing a party.”
Enjin snorted. “You hate parties.”
“I hate other people’s parties,” Zanka corrected. “Mine would be different.”
“Classy?”
“Obviously.”
Enjin smiled, then paused when he realized Zanka was watching him.
“Stop that,” Zanka said.
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
Enjin tilted his head. “Like what?”
“Like you’re deciding something.”
Enjin didn’t look away. “Maybe I am.”
The air shifted.
Zanka stood slowly and closed the distance between them. No rush. No bravado. Just intent.
“Then decide,” Zanka said quietly.
Enjin’s hand came up almost unconsciously, fingers brushing Zanka’s wrist, then curling around it. The contact sent a jolt through both of them.
“You sure?” Enjin asked.
Zanka laughed softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
That was all the permission Enjin needed.
He pulled Zanka in - not roughly, but firmly - and kissed him.
This one was different from the first. Deeper. Hungrier. Still careful, but no longer hesitant. Zanka made a low sound against his mouth and leaned in, hands sliding up Enjin’s sides like he was mapping something real.
They broke apart to catch their breath, foreheads pressing together once again.
“You okay?” Enjin asked, breathless.
Zanka nodded, eyes dark. “Yeah. You?”
Enjin smiled. “Yeah.”
They sank down together against the wall, legs tangled, the world outside reduced to distant noise. Zanka rested his head against Enjin’s shoulder, fingers absently tracing circles against his chest.
“I don’t want this to be a mistake,” Zanka said quietly.
Enjin turned, pressing a kiss to his temple. “It’s not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Enjin said. “Because I choose you. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it’s scary.”
Zanka swallowed. His grip tightened slightly. “You’re really bad at being casual about things.”
Enjin chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Zanka shifted, lifting his head, eyes searching Enjin’s face like he was memorizing it again. His thumb brushed along Enjin’s jaw, lingering.
The moment stretched - soft, charged, inevitable.
Enjin leaned in, murmuring, “This only leads one way…”
Zanka smiled, slow and certain. “Then keep going.”
Enjin kissed him again, deeper this time, hands firm at Zanka’s waist as the tension between them finally snapped -
Zanka breathed out a quiet laugh against his mouth - half disbelief, half relief - and leaned in again, slower this time. The kiss softened, deepened, turned into something unhurried and sure. Like they had nowhere else to be. Like the world wasn’t pressing in on them for once.
Enjin’s thumb brushed along the edge of Zanka’s jaw, tracing the line there like he was memorising it. Zanka shivered. Not from cold, but from the gentleness of the gesture.
“You okay?” Enjin murmured again, because he always asked.
Zanka nodded, forehead resting against his. “Yeah. Just… don’t stop.”
That was all the encouragement Enjin needed.
He pressed a kiss to Zanka’s temple, then to the corner of his mouth, then along his jaw - slow, deliberate, reverent. Each touch felt like a quiet confession. Zanka’s hands tightened in Enjin’s shirt, pulling him closer, like he was afraid to let the space exist between them again.
They sank down together fully this time, backs against the wall, knees tangled. Zanka’s head tipped back slightly as Enjin kissed down the line of his throat, lingering where he knew Zanka was sensitive. Zanka’s breath stuttered, a soft sound slipping out before he could stop it.
“Enjin -”
“I’ve got you,” Enjin said, low and steady.
Zanka believed him.
The rest unfolded slowly; hands exploring with care, pauses to breathe, to check in, to smile softly at each other like they couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Every touch felt intentional. Wanted.
Layers were peeled back bit by bit until the two of them were down to shirts and trousers.
When Enjin finally pulled back just enough to look at him, Zanka’s expression was open and unguarded in a way that made Enjin’s chest ache.
“Still sure?” Enjin asked.
Zanka didn’t answer with words. He leaned in and kissed him again, hands sliding with confidence now - no hesitation left.
Enjin let himself follow.
The world narrowed to warmth and closeness and the quiet certainty that this wasn’t something fleeting. This wasn’t desperation or distraction.
This was their choice.
Enjin wasted no time in picking Zanka up, the other man let out a slight yelp as he wrapped his legs around his waist for stability.
“What are you doing?” Zanka protested weakly. Enjin laughed.
“Finding somewhere more comfortable.” Enjin replied, laying Zanka down on top of his trenchcoat - long since discarded in the course of their making out. Along with various belts and buckles.
Now laid on his back, Zanka felt exposed - the heat rose to his face unbidden as Enjin found the hem of his pants and raised an eyebrow in question. Zanka nodded, unable to look his companion in the face. Those piercing golden eyes and the beautiful swirl of red and black ink that languished itself down Enjin’s neck and shoulders was too much. He could see more of it from this angle, where the fabric of Enjin’s shirt fell away from his body.
Zanka lifted his hips up off the ground as Enjin pulled his trousers down his legs, taking his underwear with them.
Zanka hissed at the cold air, though it did nothing to curb his enthusiasm - his dick as hard as ever in the low light cast by their one small lamp. That hiss turned into a surprised gasp as Enjin took hold of him firmly in his hand, crawling languidly over Zanka’s legs until his face was close enough that his hot breath summoned goosebumps along Zanka’s thigh.
“You’re gonna have to tell me what you like.” Enjin hummed, voice low. “I’ve never done this before.”
Zanka stuttered, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
“N-Neither have I.” He admitted. “So I don’t know what to advise.”
Enjin made a thoughtful noise, before shrugging lightly.
“Guess we’re figuring this out together.”
With that, he began a torturously slow swipe of his tongue from the base of Zanka to his tip. Zanka made a strangled noise of appreciation. Before he could say as much, Enjin took him into the wet heat of his mouth - seemingly moving slowly to test the boundaries of what he was able to do.
The answer to that was he could quite easily swallow Zanka whole.
They explored this for a while, Enjin gaining more and more confidence as Zanka began to encourage him - Enjin had made his own obscene sound when a fist found its way into his hair and tugged.
He grew faster, bolder, using his hand to help maintain that agonising pressure along Zanka’s whole length while he moved. More, more until -
“Shit, Enjin - I’m -”
Zanka came hard not a second later, hot spend filling the space inside Enjin’s mouth. He pulled himself off of Zanka’s dick with surprise, mulling over the unfamiliar sensation and taste.
It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t unpleasant either.
Zanka looked down at him with puffy, half-lidded eyes. Those pools of blue looked even brighter when rimmed by that slight redness.
“S-Sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you.” Said Zanka, sheepishly.
Enjin made his mind up then and there, and swallowed. Maintaining eye contact as he did.
“Did you just-?” Zanka’s eyes widened in surprise.
Enjin wiped his mouth with a thumb and found a vulpine grin etching its way onto his features.
“Thanks for the meal.” He joked. Zanka groaned in exasperation.
As Zanka gathered himself, he became aware of Enjin starting to pull his pants back up for him, and scrambled to help. Once he was clothed again, he propped himself up on his elbows only to find Enjin laying down next to him with a look of satisfaction. The blond man was on his side, head on his palm as he balanced on one elbow.
Zanka winced at the pain in his injured shoulder as he tried to get up.
“Whoa hey - where do you think you’re going?” Enjin asked, using his other hand to push him back down gently.
“Well I thought I would return the favour.”
Enjin shook his head slightly. “Nah, you’re hurt, can’t have you putting all that weight on your shoulder.”
Zanka frowned, a little offended.
“I know this is a new experience for both of us, but I’m sure I can figure it out. Besides, we can’t actually do it here so I don’t want you to be left out.”
“Zanka, babe, don’t worry about that.” Enjin reassured him. The pet name made Zanka speechless. “We have all the time in the world to try other things - let me take care of you.”
Zanka nodded. He hated to admit it but he was exhausted. Between the fight, his injury, and the excellent performance Enjin had just given him he was ready to knock out for the night. But still…
“It doesn’t feel right, leaving you pent up.” Zanka paused, anxiety creeping in. “Ah, assuming that you are. You seemed to like it when I pulled on your hair.”
Enjin made a choked sound and followed it up with a laugh.
“Would it make you feel better if I said I was rock hard still?”
Zanka caught himself pouting. “Well… a little. It’s good to know you also enjoyed it.”
Enjin hummed in thought, sitting upright and reaching for the clasp of his own trousers.
“How about this,” he began, as Zanka raked his eyes over the exposed part of Enjin’s torso where his shirt rode up. “I’ll get myself off, and you can watch.”
Zanka choked on the air, but nodded enthusiastically anyway. He didn’t trust himself to say yes. Enjin huffed in appreciation, pushing his own pants and underwear down to free his dick from its constraints. He hadn’t been lying, he was definitely really hard. And pretty big too.
Zanka found himself licking his lips thinking about the challenge of taking him. He sat up too, shoulder protesting the movement - but he wanted to see this.
Enjin wasted no time beginning to palm himself needily, he held eye contact with Zanka at first until the stimulation seemed to be too much. He squeezed his eyes shut, working on touching himself in all the ways he knew would work. It felt unbelievably perverse, having someone watching him - and that someone being Zanka? It was awful in all the best ways.
“You look so good…” Zanka murmured, and Enjin’s dick throbbed with the sound.
He groaned, still unable to look at the other man but appreciating the comment. Zanka picked up on this right away, smiling to himself like a cat that had caught a canary.
“I’m going to memorise all the ways you like to touch yourself. So I can be good for you.”
Enjin’s breathing grew shallow, and he chanced a peek out from under his lashes at Zanka who was drinking the sight of him in greedily. He gasped, hand moving quicker now as he chased that white hot sensation pooling in his gut.
“Can’t wait to see your face when you cum.” Zanka purred. “With the taste of me still on your tongue.”
That was it, with a loud groan Enjin was sent over the edge. He came in bursts, coating his own hand and stomach with the evidence of what he had done. Taking deep, shaky breaths he began to come down from his high - just enough to notice Zanka staring at the mess.
“Didn’t think through how to clean this up.” Enjin admitted sheepishly. Zanka made a sound of consideration.
Before Enjin could register what he was doing, Zanka had run his finger through the sticky spend and was putting it in his mouth.
“Whoa - you don’t have to do that!”
Zanka made a thoughtful expression, licking his finger clean as he really considered the taste in his mouth.
“I was curious, since I don’t know what it tastes like.”
In the next moment, he was bent over Enjin, licking off the mess he had made there. Enjin groaned, his oversensitive flesh breaking out in goosebumps where the air met wetness.
“H-Hey, don’t hurt yourself bending down like that -”
“We needed a way to clean you up, and besides…” Zanka paused, looking slightly embarrassed. “It’s good.”
Enjin covered his mouth with a hand to avoid making a strangled sound, and before he knew it Zanka was done with his clean up operation.
“I’m still a little bothered that I didn’t do much.” Zanka admitted, while Enjin put his pants back on.
“Well, that’s to be expected,” Enjin began, a smirk finding its way onto his features. “After all, I am a giver.”
Zanka groaned at the terrible joke, lightly pushing Enjin with his good arm as he really processed the statement.
“That joke doesn’t even work - we’re both givers!”
But he laughed despite himself. They both did.
“There is one small issue, however.” Said Zanka, eyes cast to the side.
“Oh yeah?” Enjin asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Zanka shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Watching that may have gotten me… excited again.”
“Say less.”
With that, Enjin was on him again - it was going to be a long night.
After, the world felt quieter.
Zanka lay half-curled against Enjin, breathing slow, fingers lazily hooked into the fabric of his shirt. Enjin’s arm was wrapped around him, steady and protective, thumb tracing idle patterns along Zanka’s back.
Neither of them spoke right away.
Eventually, Zanka broke the silence. “Well.”
Enjin hummed. “Well?”
“That definitely beats almost dying.”
Enjin laughed softly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We should try not dying more often.”
“Yeah,” Zanka said, eyes drifting closed. “I’d like that.”
They stayed like that until rest finally claimed them. Together, unguarded, alive.
Zanka woke slowly.
Not because of danger. Not because of pain.
Because he was warm.
That alone was enough to make him frown in confusion before memory caught up with him. The underground was never warm - not like this. Not steady. Not human.
He shifted slightly and felt it immediately: an arm around his waist, firm and secure. A chest at his back, rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm.
Enjin.
Zanka froze.
Then, very carefully, he relaxed.
Enjin was still asleep. His grip loosened a fraction when Zanka moved, instinctive rather than conscious, like his body had already decided this was where Zanka belonged.
The thought made Zanka’s chest ache in a way that was almost painful.
He tilted his head just enough to look back at him. Enjin looked softer like this - lines of tension eased, brow smooth, mouth relaxed. There was a faint mark near his collarbone where Zanka knew his teeth had been earlier, half-hidden by fabric.
Real.
Last night had been real.
Zanka swallowed and shifted again, testing. Nothing hurt in a way that mattered. Enjin’s arm tightened briefly, pulling him closer, and Zanka let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Hey,” Enjin murmured, voice rough with sleep.
Zanka stiffened again, then relaxed just as quickly. “Morning.”
Enjin blinked awake, eyes unfocused at first, then sharp with awareness. He looked down at Zanka, then around the space, then back to him.
Nothing in his expression suggested regret.
“Morning,” Enjin echoed softly.
They lay there for a moment, just looking at each other. No rush. No panic. Just the quiet aftermath of something that had changed the shape of things.
Zanka broke first, because of course he did. “So.”
Enjin’s lips twitched. “So.”
“We alive?”
“Last I checked.”
Zanka hummed. “Good. Would’ve been awkward otherwise.”
Enjin chuckled, low and warm, and brushed his thumb along Zanka’s side - gentle, checking.
“You okay?”
Zanka nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“I’m good,” Enjin said. Then, after a beat, “Better than good.”
Zanka looked away, heat creeping up his neck. “You’re not allowed to say things like that so casually.”
Enjin smiled, unabashed. “I think I am.”
They eventually untangled, slow and careful, sharing the small space without bumping into each other like they’d been doing it forever. Enjin handed Zanka water first. Zanka didn’t argue.
That felt new too.
They didn’t dress in silence this time.
“So,” Zanka said, pulling on his jacket. “What does this mean?”
Enjin paused, then met his gaze. “What do you want it to mean?”
Zanka considered that, jaw tightening briefly. “I don’t want this to be…just a thing that happened.”
“It’s not,” Enjin said immediately.
Zanka searched his face. “You sure?”
Enjin stepped closer, taking Zanka’s hand in his. “I wouldn’t have let it be. Not with you.”
Zanka let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like relief. “Good.”
They packed up after that, moving easily, occasionally brushing shoulders, hands lingering just a second too long. Nothing felt fragile. If anything, it felt grounded - anchored.
When they stepped back out into the ruins, the world looked exactly the same.
That was the strangest part.
The same broken skyline. The same dangerous paths. The same endless fight to survive.
But now -
Enjin reached out and caught Zanka’s hand.
Not for balance. Not by accident.
Zanka squeezed back without thinking.
“Let’s go,” Enjin said.
“Yeah,” Zanka replied, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “Together.”
They moved forward into the chaos side by side, something steady and unbreakable settling between them.
Whatever survived the landfall -
They would too.
The noise was distant today.
Not gone - never gone - but far enough away that it blurred into background hum instead of threat. The kind of day that felt like a rare mercy.
Zanka lay sprawled across the roof of a half-reclaimed structure, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the gray-white sky. Something warm pressed against his side.
Enjin.
He was sitting with his back against a raised bit of concrete, jacket shrugged off, sleeves rolled up. One knee was bent, the other stretched out, Zanka’s leg hooked lazily over it like he’d claimed it without realizing.
“You’re staring again,” Zanka said.
Enjin didn’t bother denying it. “You gonna charge me for it?”
Zanka snorted. “Depends. What are you willing to spend?”
“Apparently,” Enjin said, reaching out and nudging Zanka’s side with his knuckles, “everything I have.”
Zanka laughed, real and unguarded, and rolled onto his side so he could look at him properly. “Careful. I might take you up on that.”
Enjin’s expression softened - not dramatic, not heavy. Just warm. Familiar.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
They’d been like this for a while now.
Not hiding it. Not advertising it either. The people who mattered noticed. That something had changed since they made it out of the underground. The way they moved together, the way Enjin’s attention always snapped back to Zanka without thinking, the way Zanka leaned into him like it was second nature.
The world hadn’t ended because of it.
Turns out, it rarely did.
Zanka reached up and tugged lightly on Enjin’s sleeve. “C’mon. You’ve been tense all morning.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are,” Zanka said, rolling closer until their shoulders pressed together. “You do that thing with your jaw.”
Enjin huffed. “You’re imagining things.”
Zanka grinned. “Sure. Just like you don’t worry.”
Enjin didn’t argue this time. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a brief, easy kiss to Zanka’s forehead.
That shut him up.
For a while, they just lay there, listening to the wind scrape against metal and junk far below. Zanka absently traced circles against Enjin’s arm, grounding and idle and thoughtless in the way that meant he felt safe.
“You ever think about the future?” Zanka asked eventually.
Enjin glanced down at him. “That’s new.”
Zanka shrugged. “Humor me.”
Enjin considered it. “I think about…tomorrow. And the day after. Making sure we come back.”
Zanka nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”
A pause.
“But,” Zanka added quietly, “I like that you’re in it.”
Enjin’s hand stilled for half a second, then resumed its slow path along Zanka’s back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know,” Zanka said. “Just wanted to say it.”
The sun slipped behind a cloud, dimming the light, and Enjin shifted so Zanka stayed warm without thinking about it. The motion was instinctive. Natural.
The world below them was still broken. Still dangerous. Still sharp at the edges.
But up here, just for now -
They had this.
And somehow, that was enough.