Sinja Fluff

So now that I finally wrote and posted a Magi fanfiction sucsessfully, I finally feel less awkward, and capable of writing more. Do you get what I mean? It's always a little tough when you write a first fanfiction for a fandom, but it gets easier. What I usually have to do is put out a seemingly halfassed oneshot, (that trust me, I actually worked hard on) and once it's done, I feel more relaxed, and my writing gets much better. Really. Go read my first Tsubasa one shot or Fruits Basket oneshot, (if you're into those fandoms) then compare it to the ones that followed after.

Established Sinja relationship.

Fandom: Magi

MxM relationship

Kiss You Till You're Better

Jafar wasn't usually so rushed. He was always busy, true, but most of the time, he had everything in order, and while he was always moving from one place to the next, with almost no breaks in between, he didn't usually need to rush to wherever he was going.

Today this was not the case. He'd accidentally slept in, because he'd stayed up later than usual. That was Sinbad's fault. His stupid king had come into his room just as he'd been getting ready to go to sleep, and even though he knew that what Sinbad had in mind would have consequences, it was really hard to say no when the violet haired king was looking at him with his smoldering eyes, a light, teasing smirk on his lips as he more or less cornered Jafar.

So, as a result of all that, the adviser was late to an important meeting. And Jafar, despite being professional, had been embarrassed upon entering the room, panting heavily. Everyone had turned and looked at him, and while they couldn't have known his reasons for being late, he was still afraid it was somehow visible for them to see. So then the meeting had been dragged out longer than it should have. If it had ended on time, as scheduled, Jafar would have had thirty minutes to prepare for the meeting he was running to now. But he had only five, instead. And even if he made it in time, he still had a whole list of other things that needing doing. Papers that needed signing, letters that had to be written, visitations he needed to prepare for.

Those were all the things on the pale haired man's mind as he stepped onto the stairs, running down them as fast as he could. He'd made it down half of the hard marble steps before suddenly, he wobbled. It was only slightly, and he tried to reset his upset balance quickly. But it was too late for that. Jafar felt his foot slip out from under him, and nothing else but air as he fell backward. But then he felt his head connect harshly, registering a sick sounding crack, with the hard stairs. The papers and scrolls he'd been holding went flying everywhere, then joined him on his way down the rest of the stairs.

When he came to a stop, Jafar didn't move right away, knowing it was a bad idea. He'd hit his head, after all, and he'd hit it hard. If he'd injured it, it wouldn't do to go moving it around right off the bat.

"Jafar!" he heard someone shout worriedly, but it sounded hazy and far off, and he couldn't tell who it was. Vaguely, he thought it sounded more male than female, but he didn't try to piece together any more clues than that. Instead, he blinked a few times, then slowly began to sit up, touching the back of his head gently. He didn't feel any blood, which was always a good sign.

"Jafar, are you alright?"

He looked up as the voice spoke again. It was Sharrkan, and beside the darker man was Masrur. Both men looked concerned, and when Jafar started to get up, Masrur offered a hand, gently pulling the smaller man to his feet.

"You fell pretty hard." said Sharrkan. "You may want to lay down for a bit."

Jafar considered his words, but shook his head. "I...I can't. I have a meeting to get to. They're probably waiting."

"It can wait till tomorrow, can't it?"

But it couldn't, or at least, it shouldn't have to. After all, Jafar felt fine. Sure, he could feel a sharp pain emanating from somewhere in his head, that was quickly becoming a headache. And sure he was a little dizzy. But that was to be expected, wasn't it? It didn't mean he wasn't capable of going to a meeting. Mostly, he felt fine. And mostly was good enough for him.

"I'll rest after the meeting." Jafar said to try and comfort his friend, but that was a lie. He had no intention of putting aside all the work that needed doing, but if it would make Sharrkan feel better, there was no harm in saying it.

"Are you sure?" Masrur asked, looking at him solemnly. He and Sharrkan both looked doubtful. They had, after all, known Jafar for a very long time, and even though the adviser was good at keeping what he was thinking a secret, sometimes they could tell when he was lying. "You shouldn't ignore it if you're in pain."

"It's just a little pain." Jafar said. "From the fall. Nothing else." But as the words left his mouth, he realized they probably wouldn't believe him, since he was still using Masrur heavily for support, leaning on the much stronger male. He straightened out, trying to look like he was in top shape. His two friends gave each other looks, then looked at him again, thinking it over.

"If it gets worse, just end the meeting, alright?" Sharrkan asked, and Jafar nodded. Now that that was out of the way, he set to regathering the scrolls and papers he'd scattered, and with the help of Masrur and Sharrkan, he quickly had them all back in his arms. Realizing that he was now late for the meeting, even after trying so hard to get there on time, the young adviser raced off.

As he suspected, they were waiting for him, but were polite, despite his lateness. Jafar quickly got to business, trying to take his mind off the headache he was developing. But as the meeting went on, it quickly went from a small annoyance to something that couldn't be ignored. He briefly touched his hand to his forehead, wishing he could sooth the pain.

The more he talked, the harder it began to get to concentrate. The dizziness he'd assumed was from the fall itself hadn't gone away, and in fact, was only getting worse. It was like he was in a fog, a dense mist that surrounded him, and separated him from the room full of people he was talking to. Within minutes, he was beginning to feel nausea as well.

The pain, nausea, and dizziness became too much to brush off, and Jafar stopped mid sentence, breathing in and out, and trying to regain control of his senses. The people in the room called out to him, trying to get his attention, and when he didn't answer, he heard the worry in their voices as they repeated his name.

"Are you alright? Should we get help?"

"I-I...I am alright." he said, but he still didn't look up, and instead, dropped his head into his hands, cradling it gently as the heavy fog he was currently stuck in got a little thicker.

He heard the door to the room they were in open, but he couldn't bring himself to look up, not until a figure entered his line of vision, and spoke to him.

"Jafar, are you alright?"

"Sin?" he said, looking up to try and locate his king. The King of Sindria stood in front of him, looking at him worriedly. "Sharrkan told me you feel down the stairs and hit your head. He also said you insisted on getting to this meeting."

Jafar nodded absently, following Sinbad's words well enough. His king looked slightly angry with him, and Jafar knew why. Sinbad hated whenever Jafar put the kingdom before his health. But how could he ask any less from his subjects, especially those, like Jafar, who had seen Sinbad go through hell time and again for this beautiful country, even before it existed?

"I'm alright." he tried to say, but before he could even finish his sentence, Sinbad was lifting him out of his seat, and into his arms, ignoring the fact that they were in a crowded room. The ex assassin struggled, but just barely, because he was quickly coming to terms with the fact that Sinbad's fears were not unwarranted. Sinbad looked down at him.

"You are not alright, Jafar." he said scoldingly. "You're hurt, and you need to lie down."

"But...the meeting. The papers. Sindria-"

"Sindria will survive without you for a day. Besides, if you don't rest, you could get worse, and then what would we do? Sindria would be much worse if we lost you for much longer than a day."

He was right, and so Jafar didn't struggle anymore as Sinbad carried him through the castle. They were greeted many times by worried friends, soldiers, and other inhabitants of the castle, all asking if Jafar was alright as they walked by.

"He'll be okay." Sinbad would say, never stopping as he answered, intent on getting Jafar to his bed quickly. "But he needs to rest."

Jafar rested his head on Sinbad's broad chest, listening to the sound of his king's beating heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of Sinbad telling him not to fall asleep just yet, so he tried to keep his eyes open.

Finally, they reached Jafar's personal chambers, where, not to his surprise, the castle doctor was already waiting. With him was Hinahoho and Yamraiha.

Sinbad lowered him so gently onto his bed that Jafar glanced at him, half scowling half smiling.

"It's just my head. I'm not made of glass."

"'Just my head" aren't exactly the words you use to describe your head, especially when it's injured."

"You fell down the stairs, right?" Hinahoho asked, pulling Jafar's blankets over him, and Yamraiha produced a bottle of water, seemingly from nowhere, offering it to Jafar, who took a small sip, and nodded. The doctor asked him questions about how he was feeling, and, after a few minutes, spoke to the others in the room, Sinbad in particular.

"He has a mild concussion, but he should be fine, with some rest."

There were more signs of relief than Jafar remembered there being people in the room, and he opened his shut eyes to find that the other six generals had found their way into his room.

"That's good." Drakon said, and Pisti nodded beside him.

"Isn't sleeping supposed to be bed if you have a concussion?" Sharrkan asked the doctor, but Hinahoho answered before he could say anything.

"Not in the case of a mild concussion. Then sleep actually helps the brain to heal."

"That's right." said the doctor, packing up his medical equipment. "So you should all get out and let him sleep."

"But...the meet-"

Sinbad cut Jafar off before he could continue, shaking his head and putting a hand gently on top of Jafar's still sore head. "Spartos said he'll take your place for the rest of the meeting." Spartos, who was standing between Pisti and Drakon nodded. "As for the rest of your work, we'll divide it amongst all of us."

"But you all have work to do t-"

Again, he was cut off, this time by Drakon. "Between the eight of us, it shouldn't take too long."

Jafar bit his lip. He hated being a burden on others, especially his friends, and now, that seemed to be exactly what he was. They had to do his work, and he'd just be laying around, soaking up air and doing nothing of significance to the kingdom.

"Right now," Sinbad said, sitting down on Jafar's bed. "It's your duty to get well, so that you can better assist Sindria tomorrow. Right?"

The others nodded, and even Jafar found himself swayed. Sin was right. He'd be of no use to his kingdom in this condition anyway. He nodded silently, and waved as his friends bid him farewell, leaving his room, until it was only him and Sinbad.

"Don't you have work to do?" asked Jafar, settling into the comfort of his bed. Sinbad smiled, but didn't answer, crawling under the blanket with the Jafar even though the answer was obvious.

"I'll do it later."

"That's what you always say."

"And don't I always do it later?"

"Much later."

Sinbad laughed, and Jafar watched him. Sinbad laughed all the time, and most of it was genuine, but he still never got over the burst of warmth that would spread through his body every time he heard or saw his king laugh, or even just smile.

A sharp burst of pain turned Jafar away from the conversation, and he groaned lightly, shut his eyes, and put his hand back to his forehead, as if that would somehow help.

"Does it hurt?" Sinbad asked, and Jafar felt his king's much larger hand brush his own of his forehead, and take its place.

Knowing there was no point in concealing the truth anymore, Jafar nodded. "Yes."

"Very badly?"

"Not very. But enough."

"Would you like me to kiss you?"

It was such an out of nowhere, ludicrous question, that Jafar opened his eyes, frowning lightly in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything, Sin?"

"Doesn't kissing make things better?"

Jafar scoffed, and buried his head under his blankets. This was for two reasons. One, he thought being cloaked in darkness might help drive away some of the dizziness he was feeling. And two, because he was trying to hide the light blush that now stained his freckled cheeks. Getting embarrassed every time Sinbad so much as mentioned kissing him, after all this time, was childish.

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Let's test it then."

"Let's not."

But Jafar was ignored, and the blankets were pulled lower, until his face was exposed. Sinbad was leaning over him, trapping him between his arms, and since he was way too dizzy and in too much pain to fight back, Jafar didn't, closing his eyes once more as his violet haired king pressed his lips first against Jafar's forehead, and then, against his lips, keeping them there for a few seconds. When he pulled back, Sinbad cocked his head.

"Did it work?"

And sure enough, though Jafar thought it was probably just his imagination, his head hurt just a little less, and the feeling of needing to throw up receaded just enough.

"Hm. Maybe."

Sinbad's smile returned. "Should I keep going then? I'd be more than happy to aid you in your recovery."

Jafar considered, but shook his head. "I'm too tired."

"Too tired to let me kiss you?"

Jafar rolled his eyes. "It never ends with just kissing with you."

Sinbad managed to look honestly injured as he asked, "What kind of deviant do you think I am, Jafar? I wouldn't take advantage of you when you're injured."

"You said that when I hurt my leg, don't you remember?"

"That was different."

"How so?"

"You made the first move."

Had he? Thinking back on the day, Jafar decided he didn't to let Sinbad know he was right.

"Alright, how about this? You go to sleep, and I'll watch you."

"Creepy."

"Just until you fall asleep. You might need me to get you something before that."

"Alright." said Jafar, after very little consideration. "But don't go making a lot of noise. You heard the doctor. I need rest."

"I won't. Promise." And then Sinbad shifted, draping his arm over Jafar's waist, and smiling down at him. "Go ahead. I'll be here if you need me."

"I won-" But Jafar was cut off as a wave of nausea and pain shot through him simultaneously, and he groaned lightly. The arm around his waist tightened.

"Are you alright?"

It took Jafar a few moments to push away the pain enough to answer, which probably only worried Sinbad further. "I'm okay, Sin. It was just a little worse than before."

"I'll go find one of our herb specialists, and ask them to make you a healing drink." the King of Sindria said, and suddenly was out of the bed. Without meaning too, Jafar reached out, and caught Sinbad by his long coat, clenching his hand around it.

Sinbad looked down at him, surprised, and Jafar thought his expression probably mirrored Sin's own. He hadn't meant to do it, it had just happened.

"What is it?" asked Sinbad, probably thinking something was wrong. He realized he was wrong when Jafar dropped his hand, blushing, and turned away, trying to hide his face again.

"Nothing."

"Oh?" Jafar heard, the single word dripping with a teasing smugness. "Are you sure?"

"I am sure. You may go."

"But do you really want me to, Jafar?" The bed dipped, alerting Jafar to the fact that Sinbad had climbed back into the bed, and was making his way over. Sinbad leaned over him, and when Jafar pulled the blankets over his face, it was hardly a problem to pull them away, though he did encounter a little resistance in the form of Jafar's clenching fists.

Jafar suspected his face was red, and he knew it for sure when Sinbad smiled down at him. Sinbad's warm hand was suddenly under his chin, turning it gently, so that the two men were looking at each other. "There you go, making the first move again, Jafar."

Even though he could have pushed Sinbad away, or said no, (because even though he was an idiotic pervert, the king understood the meaning of no) for one reason or another, he didn't, accepting Sinbad's second kiss on his lips.

"Don't let it go to your head." Jafar said when his lips were freed. "It's probably just the concussion talking."

The End.

I liked this one much more than the other. (Don't tell the other)I hope it managed to make someone out there smile. That's what I want from all my stories.

Let me know what you think. Were the characters in character? I thought they were good, but everyone's got their own opinion, and I'd like to hear other's.