Ja’far often got headaches. They weren’t as common as they were before, but common enough—painful enough—to draw him out his usual focused reverie and into something less suited. A little less than he needed to be, especially when looking after his king. But on days like this, when Ja’far felt too ill to even consider moving, although he would anyways, Sinbad suggested that instead, he take care of his general. Ja’far hated just the idea of it.
He didn’t like staying in bed with a worried Sin, catering to his needs if that’s what he so said. The very idea made him feel uneasy. But the king, no matter how many times Ja’far urged, would not let him leave. He scoffed at the idea of Ja’far toiling through paperwork, overseeing the kingdom’s affairs, keeping even himself in line. Sinbad ridiculed the very idea of Ja’far doing his job, saying things such as ‘you can’t possibly think straight in your condition; rest.’ The general, however, thought this was little about him and more of what the king wanted.
“You’re lazy, Sin,” he mumbled, pushing his face into the pillow, one far too soft for his liking. Sinbad was all about unnecessary luxury, luxury that Ja’far could live without. But endured, nonetheless. “Just because I have a migraine does not give you the excuse to take the day off.”
“Eh?” The king smiled. “Who’s going to stop me?”
“I—“
“You’re in bed. Sick.” The king’s broadened smiled was a sickening thing. “And I have to take care of you.” The man’s long, gentle fingers brushed through the downed white hair atop the general’s head, massaging into his scalp. A soothing gesture that took little away from the pain in his head, but made him relax, nonetheless. Useless as he was, Sinbad still knew how to make Ja’far feel better.
“I don’t need you to uselessly dote over me. I need you to act as a king would.” He didn’t listen, however, as Sinbad often didn’t. And instead, took it upon himself to wrap his arms around the smaller man, tucking Ja’far’s head under his chin and rubbing his back. Ja’far would have loved to sleep. He would have loved to have given into Sinbad’s redundant affections and, for a while, pretended like things outside of these bedroom walls did not exist. To pretend that other matters outside of Sinbad’s gently beating heart and the way his chest so easily rose and fell were the only things Ja’far needed to worry about. He continued, “And as a king, it is an obligation to put your kingdom before any sort of romantic afflictions you may or may not have.”
Ja’far could feel his chest rumble with a soft sort of chuckle against his forehead, making the man frown. Warm lips met his forehead. “If that’s what you please, Ja’far. I will. But for now, just focus on sleeping, okay?” Ja’far wasn’t completely satisfied with that answer, knowing full well not to trust Sinbad on any sort of promise that he was not liable to keep without a watchful eye, but his eyes began closing on their own, blocking out his silver eyes like a curtain being drawn on a setting sun.
The king got up as soon as his general fell asleep, wanting to make good on his promise to Ja’far. But the most he could do that day, especially with a sleeping Ja’far just two feet away, was draw idly in the margins of the documents he was supposed to be reviewing—something he was sure to get in trouble for in due time.
Ja’far, at least, would have something to do when he woke up.
***hi I dont know what this is i am so sorry
