There were times when Sinbad hated her name.
Spoken clearly by a public official, moaned by a bedmate or whispered in a bar, accompanied by a hand far too familiar after only two drinks, it always sounded the same. Far too manly, she'd think to herself. Most days, she wouldn't allow that manly edge to ruin her good time. Then again, most days she wasn't nearly as drunk as she was now.
Most days, Ja'far would have stormed in and confiscated the booze by now, managing to the scold the barkeep, dismiss Sinbad's drinking mates, and demand she get back to work all at the same time.
But tonight, he hadn't. Sinbad wondered idly if he even had time to sleep lately, let alone scour the bars for his missing queen. And it wasn't as if she had come alone. Even if wandering the streets of Sindria alone at night was one of the safest activities in the world, Sinbad still understood her position as queen.
And so she'd brought along Sharrkan and Pisti.
Sinbad chuckled to herself, light-headed with the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. Pisti had long since been swept away by drunken admirers. The men had been struggling to keep up with the general's wildly in-depth description of Artemyura's native species ever since. Sharrkan, on the other hand, had stayed by his queen's side and matched her drink for drink. It had taken several hours and far too many mugs, but she had finally bested him. He now sat next to her on the plush couch, fallen forward, face buried amongst the used glasses on the low table in front of them. And as always, the queen had accumulated drinking mates through the night. Hinahoho often told her (like the father he was) that she sparkled, that her natural radiance attracted others. Unfortunately, Sinbad had quite literally drunk all of them under the table.
Sinbad placed her glass down next to Sharrkan's head and sat back. She burrowed a little further into the cushions and waited quietly for a few moments, enjoying the sounds of the bar. Pisti's tispy ramblings about her favorite pet, Sharrkan's light snoring, the bartender cleaning up after messy guests...and something else. Something that didn't belong.
Something like a foot tapping on the hardwood floor, disapproving of the scene laid out before it.
Sinbad cracked an eye open, already knowing what she'd see.
Ja'far.
Sinbad smiled wryly, taking in the disheveled look of her head general. The circles under his eyes had become alarmingly dark and his silver hair looked like it hadn't been combed in days, although his keffiyeh helped hide it. She lifted an arm heavy with jewelry and metal vessels, waggling her fingers.
"H'lo."
Ja'far frowned, taking two long strides forward and leaning down to meet Sinbad's eyes, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"You're a mess," He sighed heavily, to which Sinbad only smiled wider. Ja'far looked at her for another moment before rolling up his sleeves and collecting some of the discarded mugs littering the table. He stayed silent as he worked, but the way he snatched up the glasses and threw disapproving glances her way every few seconds said it all. She watched him as he strode across the bar to thank the barkeep for his time before dropping the mugs and hurrying back to her side. Sinbad smiled again when their eyes met and he frowned, snatching a small cushion from the couch and placing it under Sharrkan's head. He stood and glanced in Pisti's direction. Shaking his head at her captive audience, he began straightening the area around Sinbad again.
"You should really spend your time doing more productive things, Sin." Sinbad winced. There it was again. That manly-sounding name.
She crossed her legs on the couch and folded her arms in a huff, pinching her lips together in her best pout. No response. And after a few more minutes of cleaning up without so much as glancing at her, Sinbad let out a frustrated breath and dropped her arms. She watched Ja'far as he crossed the bar one last time, apologizing for his late arrival, before turning on his heel and returning to the table where he finally looked at her again.
"Come on, your highness. It's very late."
Sinbad started to respond, but stopped short, squinting up at her advisor's face. Ja'far raised one silver eyebrow, questioning, but she continued to stare. His freckles had started dancing around that thin nose and Sinbad reached out, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling his face in for a closer inspection.
"What're yo-" Startled, Ja'far put up little resistance and Sinbad pulled too hard, yanking the small man into her lap. Face to face, her hand holding fast to the back of his neck, Ja'far tried to compose himself, clearly worried about being in such a position in a public place. "Sin, you-"
"Stop," she slurred. Far, far too manly-sounding. Suddenly exhausted, she pulled Ja'far close enough to rest her forehead against his, ignoring the pressure of the Sindrian crest and jewel decorating his keffiyeh between them.
She supposed it was something she should have come to terms with years ago. Sinbad had always been tall and muscular, although slim and proportioned well enough to never be called mannish. But that name. In childhood, it had never occurred to her, but once queen the sheer amount of people calling her name had made it shockingly clear. Far too manly.
Back in reality, Ja'far was still struggling to regain his composure. Sinbad had pulled him bodily onto her crossed legs and she took a moment to appreciate both how cute he was there and how obvious their size difference was. A small build was probably something coveted by assassins (all the easier to sneak around) but would it kill him to grow a few inches?
Sinbad sighed again and released her hold on the back of Ja'far's neck. He practically flew to his feet, a red tinge coloring his pale face. His keffiyeh had come undone in the rush of movement and now floated down to cover Sinbad's feet.
"Sorry," she yawned.
"Sure you are." Sinbad stretched, ignoring the annoyance in Ja'far's voice. But this time she did take the hand he offered and allowed herself to be led from the bar, promises of returning for the others later being flung backwards to the amused barkeep.
It didn't take long to reach the palace and by the time Sinbad had tuned back in completely, Ja'far was ushering her into her own chambers.
"Would you like to remove your jewelry before passing out?" Ja'far asked slowly. A jug of water and matching glass had materialized in his hands.
Sinbad flopped down on the bed, slapping her hands against the covers over her head and kicking her legs idly.
"Do it for me," she demanded sleeiply.
Ja'far frowned again, but came forward nonetheless. He set the water down on the queen's bedside table and took a seat next to her on the bed, reaching for an arm.
As he undid the clasp on her heaviest bracelet, a thought occurred to Sinbad. And why not? They WERE in her bed, after all.
So without a second thought, she threw her arms around Ja'far before he could react, and pulled him in to the tightest hug she could muster.
He tensed immediately, assassin instincts kicking in before he could stop them. She didn't have to look to know his eyes had become snake-like from the shock of being attacked by his queen. Amused, Sinbad smiled and gave him a drunken squeeze.
"Shhh," she murmured, stroking his hair. Ja'far relaxed a fraction of an inch, but still held his on hands braced on either side of her. Sinbad made a slurred sound of displeasure when he tried to stand, and threw her weight to the side, up and on top of him.
She prided herself on her skill in the bedroom and even if Ja'far had the reflexes of an assassin, any prey could be defeated with the right amount of surprise and distractions in place. Sinbad purred sleepily, laying her head on her advisor's chest and pinning his hands with both of hers above their heads. Even in her current state, she still somehow found the clarity to place her weight just so on top of Ja'far, holding him in place.
She rubbed the top of her head under his chin a few times before looking up at his face, now completely red. Satisfied, Sin slid most of her weight to the side, laying with one arm and one leg slung across her advisor's stiff-with-embarrasment body and her head burrowed into his shoulder.
"Just relax, okay?"
"Sin, you have-"
"It's my birthday." Sinbad pressed her head into Ja'far's shoulder a little farther, eyes shut tight. "It's my birthday for just a little longer. So just relax and let it be, okay?"
She felt Ja'far tense once more before nearly melting into the comforter, all of the fight leaving him utterly exhausted. She felt him turn toward her on his side and carefully place an arm around her.
"As you wish."
Sinbad sighed internally. Ever the stiff, eternally proper advisor. She reached up and removed Ja'far's arm from her shoulders and slung it over her waist before moving in to occupy the empty space between them. "That's better," she murmured into his shirt, finally comfortable.
There were several minutes of silence in which Sinbad was ninety percent sure Ja'far was only cooperating long enough for her to fall asleep so he could escape and continue his work. However, when she opened her eyes again, she was met with a sleeping advisor, completely at home in her arms. Sinbad smirked, pulling a blanket up around them both.
She leaned down and planted a light kiss on one pale cheek before murmuring to herself: "Happy birthday to me."