I am apologizing now for how this is written because I have never been drunk, only seen people drunk and therefore cannot accurately explain how it feels to be drunk.

This is based on the fact that, if we take into account the three canon times we have seen Ja'far drunk, it seems that the more drunk he gets(Whiskey is about two-three (Nearly four) times as strong as the strongest wine I can find during research for this at 15-20% alcohol content vs 40-68% with whiskey) the more he reverts back to his days as an assassin, but seems fine on a little bit of wine if not reckless and giggly.

So yeah, one or two (Up to three, basing on the size of the container they were held in from the extra) of whiskey bon-bons(Which are basically just chocolate balls filled with whiskey) would most certainly be able to get him drunk with his age and his being a lightweight, and as he grew up this could improve slightly. By the time he's twenty five, he most likely would have gotten a little bit more of a tolerance for alcohol than at that age, but I can't give any guarantees for that because it just depends on how his body reacts to the ethanol and all the other things in the alcohol entering his system since everybody is different.

I do not own Magi,

And I hope you have a great day! :)

However the hell they did it, Sinbad wasn't sure he wanted to know.

But they had gotten Ja'far, yes, Ja'far, drunk enough to be snuggling up to Sinbad. The normally calm and undoubtedly sober man was curled up on the long couch next to his king, nuzzling his bright red face against Sinbad's shoulder slightly.

And it was fucking adorable.

The flushed face seemingly hiding freckles, the hazy green eyes, and the slight slur to the normally crisply articulated words combined with the small giggles coming from closed, slightly pink lips under the chill of the night air. Normally Ja'far was pretty much the queen of No-PDA, but two and half drinks in and here he was. But any more than that, and everyone would have a really bad time, since Ja'far would start to revert back to his days as an assassin. Sinbad remembered a time when Ja'far got ahold of some alcohol filled treats when he was about twelve and with two or three of those in his system, he had fully reverted back to when he was an assassin and attempted to murder Sinbad, so he had been running from his best friend for his life.

At the time and even now Sinbad found it funny, but if it happened now and Ja'far attempted to kill Sinbad and get blood on his hands once more, then it didn't matter what title Ja'far held or what he did to defend himself nor even how close he was to Sinbad. It didn't matter what he had done to help the country, and it didn't matter if every single one of the other Eight Generals and the King himself tried to save Ja'far, because then they'd be seen by everyone as traitors to their own nation. And Ja'far would be executed for attempted murder of the King.

All because of a few extra drinks.

That's why; with the more dangerous of the Eight Generals, there was always someone regulating how much they were drinking to avoid anything like that happening. Masrur was the only real exception, unless when Sinbad called a drinking contest. If Sinbad did call a drinking contest, which was rare, someone would put their weapons (If they had any) into their individual rooms and the others would just have to be careful. Ja'far however, would not allow himself to drink at all, even if one and maybe a half glasses of wine were perfectly alright, because it took nearly thirty minutes and the removal of his top to take off his household vessel.

Mumbling brought Sinbad out of his musings, and somehow, he didn't notice that Ja'far had wrapped his arms around Sinbad's right one.

"Shiiiin… You-you're always drinkinn'… But you never drink with meee… C'mon, just one drink-?" Ja'far laughed a bit at the end, looking up at Sinbad who seemed a bit uncomfortable with this situation. He wanted to drink, he really did… It was just that he and Ja'far had promised each other after the whole 'reversion into the assassin' instance that if one of them was getting drunk, or already drunk, then the other would be sober. So, no alcohol for Sinbad.

Solomon must be laughing somewhere at the irony in this situation, there was no way he wasn't, the dick.

"Ja'far, I think it's time we got you to bed, okay…? Can you stand?" Sinbad sighed, glancing at his advisor and thinking that this was probably going to turn out badly for him if he let Ja'far stay this close.

Ja'far smiled and chuckled, nodding as he stood, even if he swayed a little bit causing Sinbad to get up and steady his friend. Sinbad was sure that he wouldn't let Ja'far have any more alcohol tonight, and with all the cleaning up that his freckled advisor would be doing the next day he was also sure that Ja'far wouldn't be touching any alcohol again for a while. As in, at the very least until the next Maharagan night, and that was probably a whiles away.

"Let's go, Ja'far. You're drunk." Sinbad chuckled, starting to bring Ja'far back to the palace, smiling a bit at just how odd it was for their situations to be this reversed, even down to the murmur of "I am.. not drunk…" from one of them.

However, the rain was something that was a bit uncommon. Even for an island nation, which you'd expect to be humid, it didn't really rain all that much. He re-adjusted Ja'far who was walking, more like stumbling, beside him and tried to get back before they were completely soaked through. It seemed like the cold water was sobering Ja'far up a bit, but even that didn't stop him from stumbling and slurring his words.

And by the time they had gotten back to Purple Leo tower, the rain had begun to pour down and their clothes were quite thoroughly soaked through. Sinbad supposed he could have djinn equipped to get them back faster, but he was also steadfastly assured in his own mind that Ja'far, despite being drunk would certainly lecture him for doing so. If he had used Valefor though, he assumed he may have gotten away with it. Those fluffy tails were something that Ja'far enjoyed immensely. Snuggling down, just enjoying the softness of them—Ah, the rest is something that would be best if left alone for the moment.

Sinbad pulled his drunken advisor into his room, the pale and bland walls something that he took slight comfort in. The bed, as basic and bland as the room, was in the middle of the slightly large room, right up against the rightmost wall.

"C'mon Ja'far, up you go." The king murmured, picking up the smaller man carefully and setting him on the bed. "You need to get to sleep if you want to have time to deal with that hangover you're going to have tomorrow before the meeting. Now just wait, I'll grab your nightclothes, unless you want to sleep without them~" He teased, going over the nearby dresser and opening the top drawer and pulling out the white slip over nightclothes that Ja'far used.

When he looked back over at the bed and his friend, blood rushed to his face. Ja'far had begun to strip, and somehow he already had his jacket and shirt off, not even caring for basic decorum and just throwing the articles of clothing onto the floor. Pale scarred skin, soft curves as well as muscle defining his chest. Yes, Sinbad liked this sight a lot.

If only Ja'far weren't drunk.

The smaller man got up from the bed and stumbled over to where Sinbad was standing, shocked as hell, and he giggled a bit in the alcohol induced haze. The general wrapped his arms around the king's neck, trying to lean up and kiss him as he rolled his body against the bigger and tanner one of his king. Only for him to be pushed away and, once more, put on the bed.

"Sin!" Huffed the drunken man with a soft whine, to which Sinbad groaned and put the nightclothes on the bed next to the freckled advisor and responded quite calmly to the person trying to jump him. Placing one finger against the other's pale lips he silenced him, and he spoke softly with a small, awkwardly knowing smile on his face.

"Not tonight. You're drunk, so it's not the same as you coming to me normally. It isn't that I don't want to do it, trust me I do- I just want to be sure it's something you want, not something the alcohol is making you want." And as he spoke, he leaned over and kissed his friend's forehead, whispering a soft goodnight as he left him to himself, listening to the rain falling in the background.

When the sun rose the next morning, and Ja'far had roused Sinbad from the depths of sleep, Sinbad was entirely sure that there was no way, at least there should be no way that Ja'far was up and about the way he was.

"How, how are you not dead hungover?" He grumbled, turning over and hiding his face in one of the many, many pillows on his bed. It was too damn early to have to get up for the meeting, and Ja'far looked like he wasn't drunk at all the previous night.

In that moment, Sinbad was pretty sure that he needed some wine. At least a glass or two.

"Trust me Sin, I'm not in the best of moods right now. So get up, it's almost breakfast." Well, best not to anger the little fireball. As normal, he got out of bed and Ja'far waited while he dressed himself and readied himself for the day, and he read a report on the way down to breakfast.

An offhand comment from Ja'far ruined the normalcy of this morning. Before they reached the dining hall, the silver haired advisor turned to his king and started speaking to him.

"Sin… I wanted to thank you for what you did last night. You and I both know how embarrassingly reckless I can be when drunk; And while I can't remember exactly what I did… I remember you're denying me when I tried to start something incredibly lewd." He smiled a bit shyly, looking up at him as a light shade of pink tinted his pale and freckled cheeks.

Really, Ja'far should get drunk more often, because that shy smile did things to Sinbad's mind that would not be acceptable for any public to hear.