Well, seems like yours truly can't quite write multi-chapter stories for the time being, so here's another silly prompt while I try to untangle the mess that is the next multi-chapter story.

I thought that it was time Nathaniel was the one making us laugh for a change. Not on purpose, though. Never on purpose, bless him.

Many thanks to anjumstar for lending me her eyes and, of course, for always being supportive of my writing endeavours, even when they're as silly as this.

Disclaimer: If the name of this website isn't clear enough for you, then I don't know what else to say. But just to be safe: I don't own any of the characters.

Dangerous

Nathaniel

Bartimaeus was a dangerous creature. Nathaniel had known this since he was six, when he'd first met a spirit, and the years had done nothing to assuage this belief. Bartimaeus was a being of fire and air, of great strength, and—Nathaniel admitted begrudgingly to himself—of great intellect. (No one would catch him saying this aloud, though.)

Suffice to say that Nathaniel and Bartimaeus had gone through quite a number of adventures together, and not everyone's attempt on Nathaniel's life was quite as creative as they probably thought. Take this time he was kidnapped, for instance – a total predictable and, dare he say, boring occurrence that had made him almost long for Simon Lovelace to be back in town wreaking havoc with his suicidal plans. Bartimaeus would argue that those were the days and, while Nathaniel would never outright agree with him aloud – he did have a reputation to maintain, thank you very much – he always inwardly nodded, especially after one of said boring attempts.

So, they were at a pub of all places, after some prompting from Bartimaeus (read: taunting and daring). Nathaniel was taking his very first sip of German beer – "Ew, it tastes like piss!" – to which Bartimaeus responded with a very patronising pat on his head, and which, in turn, earned him the glare of the year. A couple of chuckles later, everything broke down.

Now, Nathaniel didn't remember much of what had followed, just a mess of arms and legs, spells being cast about, bottles flying to-and-fro, and a whole lot of yelling in a multitude of languages. Bartimaeus would later tell him that the assailants' djinn were old pals of his, hence the multilingual repartee. What he did remember was waking up in a dungeon – yes, really – and immediately rolling his eyes at the cliché. That did grant him a kick from a nearby masked perpetrator, to give them some credit. But their score just kept sinking with every new word from the leader's evil monologue. Nathaniel blinked through it, making mental notes in order to propel the government to rid the country of such idiocy.

Luckily for Nathaniel's impatient side, Bartimaeus didn't take the usual century to find him, and probably twenty minutes after the monologue had started to drone on, he was kicking the door in and loudly announcing for everyone to hear, "There you are, honey-boo! I've been looking all over for you!" And after strolling right past the gaping faces of Nathaniel's kidnappers, each one adding to the djinni's growing grin, he said, "You know, if you wanted some time alone, all you had to do was ask, babe."

Nathaniel had smirked and played along, slyly replying with, "Who could ever tire of you, sweetie?" Bartimaeus's grin had curled around his sharper than usual canines – at least as far as the Egyptian boy's guise was concerned – and he'd leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Nathaniel's lips before turning around to face the music.

The leader had shouted the others to attention, but before anyone could have the good sense to call their spirits to aid, Bartimaeus had taken them all out and used a rope to tie them up, big festive ribbon and all, with a snide note to the "shoddy, incompetent Night Police Department" taped to it.

Nathaniel and Bartimaeus had marched out of there an hour later, Bartimaeus still smirking, and Nathaniel desperate for a good old shower. So, obviously, Bartimaeus had dragged him to the same bloody pub they'd been at, which had gained them a couple of annoyed looks. And because Bartimaeus felt cheated out of—well, whatever it was—he had forced Nathaniel to drink that German beer that tasted like piss until the end, now wasn't Nathaniel a man of his word?

Walking home with wobbly legs – which Nathaniel really should have anticipated, now wasn't Bartimaeus a djinni of his own word too? – and an occasional hand to Bartimaeus's arm for steadiness, entering the least fun stage of being drunk, Nathaniel decided he would never have German beer again in his life if he could help it. And that he'd never let Bartimaeus goad him into doing something stupid and reckless again.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to hold your liquor," Bartimaeus teased halfway home, and Nathaniel crunched up his nose in response, because opening his mouth just seemed like a waste of precious effort. Not to mention it could lead to some improper actions. "I thought they said that the English were drunks."

The glare Nathaniel gave Bartimaeus only failed to dethrone the last one because Nathaniel could barely spare the energy to convey his message. Bartimaeus did receive it well enough, however, if his snort meant anything at all.

Then they trudged on for a few silent minutes, Nathaniel slowly regaining his strength thanks to the sharp February air and the exercise. When he managed to unglue his eyes from the traitorous ground – Nathaniel was positive Bartimaeus had cast a spell just to spite him – he found the sky lazily waking up along with the city. The stars began to fade, and a new bright glow travelled between buildings and made him squint painfully and the pools of recent rain glisten. Nathaniel had the good sense to wonder how long he'd been out during his kidnapping, and how long Bartimaeus had kept him inside that bloody pub.

The scent of freshly baked bread assaulted his nose once they rounded the corner. Londoners left their gloomy houses to a promising morning, avoiding eye-contact with each other and walking purposefully. Nathaniel felt like he was looking into a mirror as he spotted a young man nibble at an apple as he walked, a briefcase glued to his side like his life depended on it.

"Do I always look like that?" he asked aloud before he could stop himself.

Bartimaeus followed his gaze and replied with, "Well, he at least eats the apple. And you usually manage to look lost even when you know exactly where you're going, love."

Nathaniel frowned as he felt the back of his neck heat up. "Will you drop that now?"

Bartimaeus gave a theatrical sigh. "What could you possibly mean?"

"You know what I bloody mean, Bartimaeus. The—those pet names and such."

"Would you rather have me use your real name, sweetheart?"

Nathaniel groaned softly, frustrated and helpless. "John Mandrake is my name. Use it."

"Yes, Mr John Mandrake, sir. Any further requests, Mr John Mandrake?"

Nathaniel threw a hopeless glance to the unusually clear skies above. "Bartimaeus, for the love of God, will you just let it be? You've already dragged me to a pub, made me drink some horrible beer, halfway through which I got kidnapped—something which you, fearsome and powerful Bartimaeus, couldn't stop—and then, after that mind-numbingly boring occurrence, you drag me back to the same pub, to drink the same dreadful beer. I think I've had enough for the entire week."

Bartimaeus made empathetic sounds throughout his speech, but Nathaniel would bet they were all fake, so he had hardly any hopes of getting Bartimaeus to stop. If there ever had been any hopes of it to begin with.

However, before Bartimaeus could make everything worse again, they'd arrived home and Nathaniel wasn't yet beyond crying from relief, so he hastily headed inside and to his bare-walled room, where he stripped down to his boxers, easily slipped into his pyjamas, and for once forwent the mandatory shower in favour of sweet, sweet sleep.

If only Bartimaeus would let him.

"You know, for someone complaining so much, you've yet to complain about that kiss in the… dungeon." Bartimaeus giggled at the word, probably still not quite believing himself that those lunatics had taken him to an actual dungeon. Nathaniel could sympathise.

"I'm not about to complain about a strategy that worked and didn't scar me for life. Especially not tonight. We can talk about your lack of understanding of personal boundaries tomorrow. Goodnight."

And with that, he was merrily ready to close his eyelids and plunge into dreamland, but Bartimaeus only strolled forward – yes, strolled, he was taking his goddamn sweet time – and unceremoniously pulled one of his eyelids open.

"Bloody hell, Bartimaeus!" Nathaniel shrieked, his mind reeling at his own loudness, as he sat up in a flash and slapped the offending hand away. "Should we talk about personal boundaries right now, then? Fine." Nathaniel rolled out of bed and put a solid metre and a half between the two of them. Bartimaeus simply grinned at his antics, looking overtly entertained with his chin on his hands.

"You're such a prude," he commented. "And yet there was no flinching back then. Maybe you actually get worse when you're drunk?"

Nathaniel seemed to be glaring a lot that day, but he simply had to do so one more time. "What? Are you going to tell me you're in love with me now?" Nathaniel chuckled at the idea.

"Not in such human terms, no," Bartimaeus answered seriously, and got up from Nathaniel's bed, needing only two steps to close the safe distance Nathaniel had put between them.

Nathaniel felt his stomach do something funny, probably nausea, so he ignored it in favour of staring Bartimaeus down suspiciously. "Alright, you've had your fun. You got me to drink that beer, and you got me pissed. You even saved my life tonight, Bartimaeus, and I am thankful for that. But now I need to hibernate. So, if you'll excuse me."

Bartimaeus didn't force him to stop, per se. Nathaniel did get back into bed as planned and had happily tucked his freezing feet under the covers and put his throbbing head back on the pillow, when Bartimaeus said, "Ah, woe is me. My feelings aren't reciprocated."

Nathaniel deadpanned at him, even though his heart was thumping against his chest. "Honestly, Bartimaeus, I might sign you up for some theatre lessons, since you clearly do show some talent. If only you wouldn't try to decimate everyone and everything in the process."

Bartimaeus plopped down next to him, grin ever present, and Nathaniel sat up again – slower this time, for his head's benefit. "Will you take them with me, so you learn how to lie better?"

Nathaniel felt his stomach churn. Being drunk was the absolute worst. "That's an ability I don't need."

Normally Bartimaeus would have laughed at that, Nathaniel figured. But now the djinni had left it in the air and leaned in further, and somehow Nathaniel couldn't make his body move away for the life of him. So, when Bartimaeus kissed him for the second time that day, gentle and chaste, Nathaniel closed his eyes and wondered where the hell his life was leading him if his pastime was snogging a djinni and not find it within himself to be repulsed by the idea.

"Satisfied?" Nathaniel asked after they parted, trying to hide his breathlessness as much as humanly possible.

"Hardly," Bartimaeus answered without a hint of a grin for a change. "It's perplexing, really. You're not a good kisser at all."

Nathaniel made an indignant sound. "Well, go snog someone else, then! Honestly, all I'm trying to do is get some rest, and here you are, being all sorts of demanding and inappropriate."

Bartimaeus smiled at his mini-rant. "You just need some practice."

Nathaniel sputtered. "Some practice, he says! And I suppose you mean with you?"

"Of course. Can't have you traumatising people."

Nathaniel stared blankly at Bartimaeus. "And you are obviously a philanthropist."

"Very true."

"Huh. Then do be one and let this exhausted human being sleep, will you?"

"Seems fair," Bartimaeus stated, sliding off the bed.

Nathaniel sighed in relief and wiggled himself inside, punching his pillow twice and then dropping his head on it with a huff. His heartbeat was blessedly coming down and the throbbing and nausea were alleviated from the position. He even let out a sigh of relief to express all of this.

"Just one more thing."

Nathaniel was about to demand what in the name of all the saints couldn't wait until a couple of hours later or, if he were blessed enough, the afternoon, when he felt Bartimaeus kiss him on the forehead. Nathaniel couldn't find it in himself to berate that, so he turned his back on Bartimaeus to save himself from further assaults and possibly to hide his blush.

"Close the door on your way out," he mumbled.

Bartimaeus was a dangerous creature. Nathaniel had known this since he was six, when he'd first met a spirit, and the years had done nothing to assuage this belief, much less recent events, because while Nathaniel knew spirits to be vicious, he had definitely underestimated the extent to which this was true. So, while he added some more points to Bartimaeus' 'dangerous' score, he heard said dangerous creature make his way to the door and wondered how this was his life.

"By the way, Nat," Bartimaeus piped up.

"Mhm?" That was about as far as he'd go anymore. Bartimaeus shouldn't and didn't need to be encouraged.

"I bet that all of this really did make up for me letting you get kidnapped."

"Excuse me?"

Now that I've hopefully made you laugh a little, I'm here to announce that yes, there will be a second chapter in Bartimeus's POV, so hit that follow button for that. Or don't. I'm not the boss of you.

See you next time!