A/N: So this has been chilling up in my documents for faaaar too long. Finally got around to posting it lol.

Disclaimer: seriously, I own nothing people.

Warnings: Copious amounts of fluff, run-on sentences, and epic, utter failage. Oh, and boys mackin on each other. You've been warned? No beta, so. Yeah. Enjoy!

&.

- jealousy -

Bartimaeus never needed more than seven planes. He knew there were plenty more, mind you, and those with an abundant number of planes most likely lived longer and literally more insightfully than he. Really, there was no need for such extremities. Bartimaeus was a lively demon alas, a tired one. Extra eyes meant extra surveillance, extra vigilance, and at five thousand and ten years old, he was mighty ready to invest in glasses just to take half the burden off his back.

At times, he became even jealous of humans, as repulsive and shameful as that was. Unseeing and so unsuspecting. Of course, that's what made them human in the first place. Yet to live with that much carelessness, life surely had to be much sweeter.

He didn't find it ironic when humans were jealous right back.

So when Nathaniel looked at him with a narrowed gaze after being shoved out of one afrit's vengeful path, Bartimaeus only smiled bittersweetly before heading off to take care of business.

Ungrateful race, they be.

- coincidence -

There are times they differ so perfectly that it teeters Bartimaeus's sanity close to unreachable. And then there are times when they are so much alike, Bartimaeus doesn't know whether to crack a witty comment or feel alive.

Black eyes framed by black hair. Thin, ill, and wise beyond their years. Nathaniel's skin was white, like the underside of Ptolemy's palm, and covered with soft peach fuzz, smooth to the touch, sickly pretty. Ptolemy's flesh was golden brown and smelled of spices, kissed with light freckles, bright and warm in the sun - unashamed, and knowingly beautiful.

- ancient -

Batimaeus's lips taste like history. Like rich dunes of sour sand lathering the roof of his mouth, ancient and oddly nostalgic. Like a past he never had. And behind his half-matted eyes, the magician sees a birds' soaring shadow and the golden sun - like a God. And when Bartimaeus's hands curl around the small of his bare back, when he drags his nails softly against his jutting shoulder blades, Nathaniel shivers and then there it is - the sharp rivets of the Nile crashing against his bare ankles.

The demon only laughs against the catch in his gasping throat, whispers like the hot breeze on a bright afternoon into the indent of his jaw. He smooths his dark hands against Nathaniel's pale thighs - rustling of a weathered papyrus scroll resting on his lap. Pulls back the hair at his temple and tucks it behind his ear, murmurs something witty into the smooth creases of his eyes, sighs shamelessly at the cool touch of Nathaniel's skin against his.

And these moments between them, the magician thinks, is never unlike the telling of a story.

- handsome -

Swarming, swarming, swarming. Captivating, the way his gaze skittered over the words in front of him. Inhaled them, capturing them with an unquenchable thirst building in his belly; he would drink them all up like a candied wine.

And it fascinated Bartimaeus, this eagerness Ptolemy contained. The shine his cheeks took when he inquired, when he simply wondered. As if the world itself was wondrous.

The wise demon smiled, drawn in only naturally by the sweetness of his wide eyes, lulled by the seraphic curves of his smile, the innocence of his mind.

"I loved him, you know." he whispered aloof to Kitty's terse face, staring straight into the black hues of her eyes.

"I know."

- joy -

It was silly how nothing else compared to this. Breathing heavy into the stillness of the deserted streets, Bartimaeus miles ahead and laughing at something mundane, most likely. His guise was slipping, a pair of bright eyes as yellow as the street lights flickering sporadically to meet his own. Nathaniel stuffed his frigid hands into the static charged sanctuary of his pockets and grinned at the annoyed calls of one certain djinni to 'hurry the hell up'. The grin turned into an expressive scowl, though, when an enthusiastic flipping of the bird caught his attention. The magician's brow jumped.

"Bartimaeus!"

All in all, it was a good night.

- pleasure -

He mouths an unknown word, phrase, sentence, a goddamn picture, into the sharp knobby bones of his wrists, pinked pale flesh and all. Nathaniel's face contorts into a disapproving scowl only to distract from the way the nerves in his back are singing, the way his spine is beginning to ache in his attempts to hold it still.

"Stop that." he heaves breathless and bothered, writhing under the treacherously exciting sensation of Bartimaeus's damp lips kissing a trail down his arms, and back again. The demon smirks charmingly.

"Haven't the foggiest on what you're off about, Natty." he murmurs into the heart of the magician's palm. The guileful appearance of his tongue contradicts his whispers, though, and Nathaniel's stomach sinks accordingly at the feel of it running down his index finger. He muffles a soft sound, flustered, attempts to fist his hand.

"Now, now," Bartimaeus pouts and it's ridiculous because there's a hunger glinting in his eyes, a sultry stealth, and if anything it just makes him look like more of a demon than ever. "That's right cheating, ain't it?"

"Oh, so now you have morals all of a sudden?"

The djinni's chuckle is only effective in making the baby hairs on Nathaniel's neck stand on end. He chances a glance at Bartimaeus's face and immediately squeezes his eyes shut afterward. It's all he can do to stop the gasps clawing up his throat. He hates and loves it at the same time - this thrill of being seduced.

"I've always had morals, Nat. In fact," ignoring the bite of nail against his cheek, djinni continued. "I'd say up until now, I've been a pretty good boy."

The synchronized movement of Nathaniel's blinking eyes and furrowing brow might have been quite a spectacle at any other given moment, maybe even something the djinni would dare call cute. Really, for someone who claimed to be so perceptive, he was quite a dead weight when it came to things like this.

"Wait, what do you mean up unti-"

There was a spell binding shock circling the base of Nathaniel's back bone, a million and one needles taking comfort in the spot where his sanity met his pheromones, causing a weighty groan to slip unperturbed past his lips. He couldn't fight the way his toes curled back or the way the gears in his mind halted. All he could recognize was the provocative push and pull of a mouth, wet around his finger, nipping at his skin.

"Nnngh."

Bartimaeus hummed appreciatively in response.

- winter -

When it's cold, Bartimaeus makes him coffee and stealthily aims a magazine at his face.

Nathaniel sputters indignantly and flushes beet red all the while. Bartimaeus flashes a cheesy thumbs up and comments something irritating about his elite fluency in the english language. Nathaniel throws the magazine back, always misses, and demands for a blanket.

Bartimaeus only shrugs, whistles while making his way to the hall closet and comes back with a ratty old blue comforter, always. Nathaniel only shoots him furtive looks and grumbles some kind of balderdash that might be approving, but the djinni is never too sure.

Soon there's a rustling of fabric, a mini wrestling match, and a lot of spilled coffee. Not-too-nice words are issued and not-too-nice taloned feet thrash with vigor and terrifying precision. After a few minutes, it's quiet.

The blanket is big enough for two, Nathaniel is always reminded.

- nurturing -

"You're a real work of art, you know that?" Bartimaeus snickered while dropping a towel on Nathaniel's sopping head. The boy in question scowled before snatching the towel off and turning in his seat. Djinni simply rolled his eyes.

"I mean, you couldn't go fetch those papers in the morning? When there wasn't a thunderstorm out?" he looked at his feet, "and you had shoes?"

Still no answer. Bartimaeus almost gave him a good one across the back of stupid, shivering magician head. Instead, he frowned.

"Hey."

Nat dragged the towel across his face and went on to squeegee the moisture out of his ridiculously girly hair. Bartimaeus gave into temptation and performed a pretty impressive judo move that sent him flying off his chair.

"What!" Nathaniel hissed through all gums and teeth, towel still caught in his coiling hand.

Bartimaeus pointed.

"Nothing much. Only that if you don't take off those horrid, drenched clothes of yours, you'll most likely die of hypothermia." He shrugged at the boy's wild stare. "Or something."

The next few seconds were filled with the shower blasting and Bartimaeus scraping heaps of wet clothes off the floor in a huff.

- first kiss -

Their first kiss wasn't really a kiss at all, much more Nathaniel starting up one of his old tantrums and Bartimaeus grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and crushing Ptolemy's lips to his in an attempt to make him shut up. Despite that rough start, it lasted a handful of seconds longer than it should have. Djinni let go. Magician sat stunned.

Both smartly returned to whatever they had been doing before and never spoke of it again.

&.

The second time was clearly intentional and most likely the most embarrassing and wholly confusing thing they had ever done mutually in the history of their already strange relationship.

In an early attempt to get back into the swing of things, Nathaniel had sent Bartimaeus out on a charge. Something mundane. Fetching coffee. Simple and fool-proof, with little to no harm guaranteed to both parties. Maybe an extra grandma would have to wait longer in line, but that was already pushing it.

Nathaniel didn't hear from him for two days.

Two days and a quarter of an hour - not that he had been counting. Or pacing. Or putting off all his responsibilities in favor of pulling at his hair and biting at the nubs that were his nails. Not once did he think of anything else, not even when Miss Piper had come up to knock on his door and ask if he was alright because he hadn't come out of his office in forever. He shooed her away as politely as he could and immediately stepped onto his side of the summoning circles, the same ones he hadn't looked at for the past forty-eight-plus-one hours (because. He. Just. Didn't. Care.) and set his sights upon concreting his position as the all powerful master in Bartimaeus's dumb, demon eyes.

Self-preservation was a flimsy, forgettable thing, Nathaniel found out that evening.

And the djinni had the gall to look sheepish, but this was Bartimaeus, so Nathaniel must have been seeing things. The demon raised a palm and opened his mouth to recite some kind of practiced tale about getting held up at the counter, only for the one making the coffee happening to be none other than Faquarl, and you know how those meetings always turned out-

But Nathaniel didn't hear any of it because as soon as a glimpse of dark skin peppered into sight amongst the smog and smell of brimstone, his feet had grown wings. Without bothering with nonense such as protective charms and the works, he jumped out of the pentacle and shot across the room.

He faintly remembers wrapping his thin arms around Bartimaeus's neck and scoffing something degrading (possibly to make himself feel better, chalk up some pride and whatnot) before yanking the djinni's face to his and testing the water of his lips. It wasn't like last time, all teeth and pink gums, but soft chapped skin that melded together a little too well. Out of all of the things that Bartimaeus could have done - dismiss himself to the Other Place, turn into some type of horned monster and rip the magician's limbs off, light the room on fire and watch him burn alive in a fitting and nostalgic end - he didn't do any.

He gripped Nathaniel's face in his hands and kissed back.

&.

Despite it being many long months later, the subject still lay untouched, this action they acted upon at the most sporadic of moments. It went without being said that there was no need discussing it once it was over and done with unless one was in the mood to answer a maze of embarrassing questions and furtive glances.

After lip-lock number three - under the rain gutter outside Nathaniel's government-owned house, curtains of water spilling off their shoulders and Bartimaeus making this thunderous sound of aggravation before shoving the magician against the window and helping him uncover just how long he could hold his breath for without passing out - it became a problem and needed to be severely dealt with.

Later.

&.

The fourth was accordingly right after the third.

As was the fifth.

...

It turned out to be a long day.