Angel's Snare

Really, Sinbad mused, I should forbid Ja'far from training. I won't be able to hold back.

He had just returned from a diplomatic visit to Kou (and- to be frank- it was boring as hell), only to be greeted by a rare, but satisfying, sight.

Ja'far was sparring with Sharrkan. It was one of the only times his uptight advisor exchanged his attire of Sindrian robes in favor of a more casual outfit. He donned a green tank top with a red sash tied over his shoulder, the color matching the gem from his keffiyeh which he had placed on his head. The pale man wore cream-colored puffy pants, tucked into black boots.

Sinbad watched as his advisor jumped and twirled, dodging Sharrkan's sword as if it was nothing. Ja'far made no sound, nimbly stepping aside as the swordsman swung, grabbing his arm and judo-flipping him over his shoulder. Ja'far slipped his blades into his hands, activating Bararaq Sei, and touched one to Sharrkan's head and the other to his neck.

"I win," Ja'far stated dangerously, letting a sliver of his days as an assassin of Sham Lash slip into his eyes. Entranced, Sinbad shivered, but not from fear.

The king took in how the fading light from the sun illuminated Ja'far's soft features, his silver hair shining gold.

He looks like an angel, thought Sin. A deadly angel.

Ja'far retracted his knives, and Sharrkan sighed, "Man! I really thought I had you on that one. What was the score again?"

"Ten to me, two to you," Ja'far stated primly, recoiling his weapon around his arms.

"Awww, seriously?" the Heliohapt groaned, flopping down onto his back.

"Well, it can't be helped," Ja'far flashed a razor-sharp smile. "Maybe next time, then." He extended a hand to Sharrkan.

The man took it and pulled himself up, saying, "Yeah! I won't lose!" They grinned at each other a moment longer, then Sharrkan turned and went on his way. (Probably to go find Yamuraiha, Sinbad assumed. The man was definitely head over heels for the magician, but, sadly, he was in denial.)

The advisor stood there a minute more, his back to his King.

Silence.

Then: "Sin."

Sinbad stepped out, approaching Ja'far from behind. "Ah, so you knew I was there?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I am always aware of your location, my king."

"So it seems."

Ja'far turned to look at the other man. "It has gotten late; I must be going."

Sinbad, however, wasn't listening, instead choosing to focus on his advisor's lips. He wondered what those lips would taste like. Soft, maybe? He scrutinized them again. Yeah. Soft, definitely.

"O-oi, Sin. What are you doing?"

The purple-haired man hadn't realized that he had moved forward to examine said lips. His companion's face had gone bright red from the close proximity. In that moment, with the setting sun's light forming a sort of halo around Ja'far's head, Sinbad knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He couldn't suppress the urge to just reach out and take.

And so he did.

And, damn, if that wasn't the best kiss in his entire life, he didn't know what was.

Ja'far pulled away first, flushed. "Sin... What was that about?" He touched his lips.

Sinbad chose to ignore the question, opting instead to bury his face into the other man's shoulder. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of ink and parchment and just- Ja'far.

He was about to swoop in and claim those lips once again- but was (unfortunately) interrupted by a loud voice from the other side of the courtyard.

"Ja'far! Are you out here? Sharrkan said he was sparring with you!"

The owner of the voice came around the corner into view: Hinahoho. The man stopped when he saw the position the other two were in, and his eyes widened a fraction before his face morphed into a mischievous expression.

"Ah, so you guys finally got together? I mean, it took you long enough. We had a bet going and everything! Who made the first move? I do not want to lose ten silver pieces to Drakon."

Hinahoho kept rambling on and on, but Ja'far had shoved Sinbad away, his face aflame.

Sin groaned, effectively interrupting the Imuchakk's rant. "Hinahoho! You ruined the moment! And I was enjoying it so much, too..." He trailed off.

Ja'far had composed himself, smoothing down his hair that Sin had entangled his fingers in (though Ja'far was lying if he said he didn't enjoy it), and pinched the bridge of his nose. In an exasperated tone, he said, "What did you need, Hinahoho?"

"Ah, yes." Hinahoho collected himself. "The offices are in a huge disarray without you. We need your help."

"Very well," Ja'far acquiesced. He began to leave, but briefly paused to look over his shoulder once more. "Oh, and Sin. For spying and taking me by surprise," Sin couldn't help but grin at that one, "no drinking for a month." And with that, he swept away.

For once, there were no sounds of protest at his drinking privileges being removed. For once, there were no cries of, "Ja'far!" as the pale man retreated. For once, he only watched as the last rays of sunlight mapped out his advisor's- no, his angel's- path.

For once, he could call Ja'far his.

A/N: Oneshot! I thought, 'Huh, I've never really read any: "Ja'far is amazing at fighting stories" so I'll do it myself!' This was written quickly over a span of free school hours so... Yeah. I tried my best, and I hope you enjoy. Reviews are appreciated. -C