[A/N: prompt is: "Me and you and our dogs all sleeping together on our king-sized bed."]
Two years ago, Ja'far hadn't known Sinbad was a dog-lover. Two years ago, Ja'far at moved in with Sinbad, only to find four dogs sharing the house. Two years ago, Ja'far was sure he'd never grow an attachment to an animal.
Oh how wrong he was.
Pepper (German shepherd; loves snack food), Cinnamon (rusty hound dog; howls for no reason at ungodly hours of the morning), Bacon (chocolate Labrador; unbelievably energetic (how Sinbad had managed to get that mutt enough exercise all by himself before Ja'far had moved in was beyond him)), and Icing (husky; the quiet one. Ja'far appreciated that): all, unbeknownst to Ja'far, Sinbad's beloved pet dogs.
Two years ago, Ja'far would never have known the names of all of these dog breeds or that Labradors loved to swim (and would often take advantage of any opportunity to do just that, as Ja'far now knew from unfortunate personal experience) or that Sinbad had a penchant for naming his pets after foods or just how much work it was to keep four dogs.
They had to be fed and watered and walked and washed and groomed and played with and it was absolutely exhausting. But, Ja'far had to admit, Sinbad's unabashed joy was certainly enough to make up for it.
A small woof came from Ja'far's side and he turned from brushing his teeth to look at the four dogs, all waiting and looking up at him with pleading eyes. Ja'far rolled his eyes affectionately, washed out his mouth and set out to gather together all the leashes from around the house. The dogs followed him the whole way.
Walking four big dogs simultaneously was no easy task. Especially when it seemed like the neighbors bought out their dogs all at the same time just to make your life harder. Especially when it seemed like dogs were magnetically attracted to each other and were possessed to howl at the top of their lungs when they caught even a whiff of their canine brethren.
Fortunately, having much practice, Ja'far survived the afternoon (although he was insanely tired afterwards). And after a quick stop at the corner store to buy some dog biscuits, the five returned home.
It was a modest home, even if they could afford something better, what with Sinbad's income. Neither of them really had much desire for a huge house, as any house at all was certainly better than an apartment. The porch was red brick, decorated with hanging plants and patio chairs. The front yard was lined with bushes and several kinds of flowers. Out back was bigger, fenced in for the dogs and containing a larger garden that was separated from everything else. Taking care of it kept Ja'far busy.
Ja'far threw some biscuits at the dogs, watching them yip happily and scuffle for the treats, settling down himself in the living room with his well-worn (albeit well taken care of) grey laptop. The only sounds for a long, relaxing while were the occasional lapping of water and squeak of stuffed toys.
Ja'far wished the peace and quiet would last forever. Unfortunately for him, minutes later the tell-tale growls of Sinbad's prized navy blue van and the heavy footsteps Ja'far'd grown to know so well interrupted the perfectly blissful calm.
"Ja'far! I'm home!" Sinbad burst through the front door with his usual Friday-night enthusiasm, decked out in a suit and tie and carrying several brown paper bags brimming with groceries. He greeted by wild howls and bays, but Sinbad only laughed at the overly-excited dogs and scratched them each behind their ears. They calmed down long enough for Sinbad to push his way through the sea of bodies and dump the groceries unceremoniously on the countertop.
Ja'far looked up from his seat sinking into Sinbad's oversized plush chair, lowering his laptop. He'd become something of a housewife in the last two years with how much money Sinbad made, but that didn't stop him from earning a little extra cash online. You know; just in case. (Ja'far would never admit it, but he only did it to give himself something to do. Being a workaholic without any work to do was like being social butterfly and living in seclusion. He really wished Sinbad would let him work and would instead stay home with the dogs himself.)
Sinbad let out a loud sigh, leaning down to brush Ja'far's bangs out of his face and kiss his forehead gently.
"You smell terrible." Ja'far murmured affectionately into Sinbad's neck. The older chuckled.
"It's good to see you too." Ja'far could feel a grin in his words. Sinbad situated himself next to Ja'far, throwing one arm across the smaller's shoulders and the other reaching to pull out his phone. Ja'far readjusted himself and went back to working.
After about three minutes of distracting sound effects and tapping coming from Sinbad's phone, Ja'far stopped what he was doing and looked pointedly at Sinbad until the man paused to look at Ja'far in confusion: a picture of innocence.
"If you want to play Temple Run, can you go into another room? Or at least mute your phone?" Sinbad pouted childishly.
"But it isn't as fun with no sound…"
"What I'm doing is more important." Sinbad groaned in a mixture of disappointment and defeat. Then he went quiet; not a good sign. Because, you see, just as Sinbad had a penchant for naming his pets after foods, he also had a penchant to go quiet when he thought of a perfectly devilish idea.
"Icing! Cinnamon! Bacon! Pepper!" Sinbad whistled. Ja'far stopped typing. You've got to be kidding…
The dogs shot up like children at the mention of candy. Ja'far found himself buried under furry bodies and his laptop knocked to the floor and Sinbad's deep laughter filling the room and, despite himself, laughing along with him.
"You're ridiculous, I hope you know." Sinbad grinned broadly and ran his hand through Ja'far's hair, the younger leaning into the touch. Pepper interrupted with a misplaced lick to Ja'far's face and Sinbad started laughing again. Ja'far let himself smile.
Sinbad gave the dogs a look, and they all jumped down to the floor, as if sensing what their dad was up to. Sinbad picked up a spent Ja'far bridal style and began the journey down the hall to the bedroom.
"Sin, you have to put away the groceries." Ja'far was awake enough to object.
"The groceries can wait." Sinbad leaned down to bury his nose in Ja'far's neck. Ja'far, too tired to argue any further, only muttered something in annoyance. Sinbad did a silent cheer of victory.
Rashly kicking open the door to the bedroom, Sinbad stepped forward to the side of the huge bed and laid the white-haired male down in the cocoon of blankets Ja'far had gradually built up over his restless nights. Sinbad himself got comfortable beside him, crossing his arms behind his head and letting out a deep sigh.
A jingle of license tags and a hollow 'click click' of nails on wooden floorboard announced the dogs' arrival outside the bedroom doorframe. They all waited, panting, tails wagging, waiting to be invited in. Sinbad sat up and smiled, before clicking his tongue. The four dogs rushed forward with enthusiasm, but took care not to jump atop Ja'far and wake the now sleeping man.
Sinbad stroked Bacon across his back with one hand, the other reaching over to drag his fingers along the hair clinging to Ja'far's neck, laying back on the plethora of pillows Ja'far insisted on having and wondering to himself just what he did to deserve this.
He let sleep take him with a blissful smile and the soft sound of Ja'far's even breathing.
"Sin." Sinbad buried his face in the pillow mountain, groaning something that sounded like 'five more minutes'.
"Sin." No response.
"Sinbad." Sinbad blinked open dewy eyes to see Ja'far hovering above him, dressed in fresh clothes, hair brushed neatly, holding a half-gallon of whole milk that smelled like death.
Sinbad stared for a minute. He blinked, pushing himself up on his elbows. He blinked again.
"Any idea how this might've happened?" Sinbad laughed sheepishly.
"Well, you see, I-" Ja'far pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation.
"I can't believe you. I thought that after you tucked me in or whatever you were intending to do, you would at least take the liberty to put away the damn groceries." Sinbad cowered under the intense, gray-eyed glare.
"Hey; I was comfortable!" Sinbad offered, letting his eyes wander to anywhere but the younger male.
"Your comfort isn't worth $2.42."
"That's cold."
Needless to say, Sinbad learned that spoiled milk equaled grumpy Ja'far and henceforth remembered to store away the perishables in the refrigerator after he returned from work before attempting to interact with the white-haired man (lest he be met with a particularly chilly glare).