~Present Time~

It only takes a minute for Sinbad to realize his relationship with Judal has changed.

It's changed, he notices, eyes roaming over the naked form of his boyfriend, in his bed, curled up with a naked pretty girl, to one of three things. First, it's changed to a relationship where Judal fucks around and hides it (poorly) from him. Second, it's changed to a relationship where Judal tells him unabashedly that he's fucked around, assuming Sinbad will understand. Third, it's changed to a relationship where Judal brings girls home to share them.

All of those sound like simply too much energy for tonight.

Sinbad sighs, walking out as quietly as he can, locking the door behind him and heading downtown a few streets, parking in a locked garage close to Ja'far's apartment building. At least here, of all places, he'll be able to simply sleep without anyone wanting to talk or grab at him.

Ja'far's key gets him in, and Sinbad doesn't bother waking the other man, simply flopping down on the couch and passing out in his suit as quietly as he can. It's been a long, long couple of days, and a bit of peace and quiet before everything starts again is worth its weight in gold.

"My king, I will never leave you."

Ja'far looks up at him, eyes slitted and intense, no matter the blood that runs into them. Sinbad clasps his hands, drawing him close with what's left of his strength in his fading limbs, rasping, "It's an order, Ja'far. Get away from here. You have to live. The people…"

He has to stop to cough up blood, the chains rattling as he does. Shit, Kouen's men will be back any time, led by that traitorous, damned Magi. "You have to let our people know how it ended. They need….they need to be ready. I can't trust anyone else."

"Damn you!" Ja'far hisses, and Sinbad smiles weakly.

"Not if I can help it. That's what they want."

"But how can I-"

Sinbad wakes with a jolt, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs as he gasps for air, suit soaked through with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, and for long moments, he has no idea where he is. Too small for a bed-a cot? Is this Kou? Have the Emperor's men-

Just a dream.

He could laugh, he's so relieved to snap back to reality, but the dampness on his face isn't sweat, and he's not laughing.

He stumbles into Ja'far's room, trying to quell the stupid, senseless tears, but they're as stubborn as he is. He's careful for snakes, picking one up and setting her back in her tank without a bite, then curls up around Ja'far, yanking the smaller man to his chest like an overstuffed toy. "Sorry," he mumbles, "it's me, don't kill me, just go back to sleep, I'm sorry."

Ja'far stirs immediately, the presence in his bed a far more jarring thing. He'd woken hours ago to the sound of someone entering his apartment, but the fall of the footsteps had been unmistakably Sinbad, and so Ja'far had simply let himself doze back off again, unconcerned.

This is cause for a bit more concern, Ja'far thinks.

"…Sin?" Ja'far squirms, twisting within the other man's arms a bit, and he feels something wet against the back of his neck. "Sin, are you all right?"

"Fine." The sound is muffled into Ja'far's upper back, and Sinbad squeezes tighter, trying to swallow down the tears-but ah, he hadn't been prepared to hear Ja'far's voice. His attempt to laugh it off comes off a bit hysterical. "Bad dream, if you can believe it. Should know better than to sleep alone by now."

Ja'far swear he hears a rib crack, but he doesn't mention it. "I thought you didn't have those anymore." He squirms, freeing himself until he can turn properly within Sinbad's arms to actually face him. "Why are you even here? I thought you'd be curled up with Judal."

Sinbad looks away, trying not to look like he's hiding when he is. "Don't have them unless I sleep alone. Thought you knew that's why I don't." He sighs, looking up with a rueful grin. "My bed's a little occupied. Some asian chick. I was tired, didn't want to talk."

"… Ah." Ja'far heaves a quiet sigh. "Then why didn't you come in here?"

"Didn't want to disturb you." Sinbad rakes a hand sheepishly back through his hair. "Sorry. It's been a while, I thought they might not come back."

"Would it help to talk about it?" God, Ja'far's no therapist and he knows it, but when Sinbad crawls into his bed clinging to him and crying, he sort of has to do something. "Or do you just… want to go back to sleep?"

Sinbad knows, knows beyond a doubt, that he won't be able to sleep again tonight. "Same stupid shit as when I was a kid," he admits. "You've been in them since I was a teenager, I told you about those weird dreams, right?"

Ja'far nods, his expression shifting wry. "How I made it in there is beyond me." Slowly, he pushes himself up, though doesn't dislodge Sinbad's hold. "I can make us some hot tea, if you want."

"I'm sorry, you should be sleeping. God, I'm an asshole, I shouldn't have come." Sinbad doesn't yank Ja'far down, but watches him stand, sighing out a breath. "I can go, if you want."

The look Ja'far fixes upon him is decidedly put out. "I just offered to make you tea. Do I look like I want you to go? Here, just-" He plucks a rather large snake from its tank, and drops it unceremoniously into Sinbad's arms. "Hold that until I come back."

"Ah." Sinbad shrugs gently, letting the pretty patterned thing wind around his arms. "Hello, gorgeous. Are you going to keep me company until your momma makes tea?"

"I'm not a woman, I can't be a momma," Ja'far tosses back with a huff, and disappears but for a few minutes. The tea he brews is a rather specific, sleep-oriented blend, and the cup is steaming by the time he brings it to Sinbad, gently peeling the snake away from him to replace it with the cup. "Here. You'll feel better after this."

Sinbad takes a sniff, and his eyes lid almost immediately. "Ah. The sleepy stuff, huh? Did you put any drugs in it this time, or just herbs?" It wouldn't be the first time Ja'far's drugged him.

"I was afraid drugging you might make it worse tonight," Ja'far admits, dropping down onto the edge of the bed and letting the snake wind around his own arm. "You need to fall asleep naturally-or, well, mostly naturally. If you still can't after this, you should just stay home tomorrow and get back on a proper schedule."

"Or I could come here tomorrow night."

Sinbad drops his head onto Ja'far's shoulder, eyes lidding already as he takes a slow sip of the tea. "I always sleep best when I'm with you anyway."

"… I gave you an offer to skip work, and you didn't take it? You really must be feeling odd." Ja'far lifts a hand, slowly stroking it down the back of Sinbad's head. "You can come back tomorrow night if you want. But don't crawl into bed fully clothed next time." He pauses, face flushing a bit. "That… I mean, you know what I mean. Going to bed in your suits just ruins them."

Any other time, Sinbad would seize the joke, make a lascivious comment. Right now, the slow touch of Ja'far's hand down the back of his head is the most comforting thing he's felt since-

Since he left me in chains, in tears, to save our people-

He sucks in a slow breath, hands shaking, and nods. "Yeah. Okay. I'll be here."

Maybe he should have drugged Sinbad after all.

"… Finish drinking that and you can use me as a pillow… or whatever it is you like to do." Ja'far carefully pulls away, long enough only to put the snake back into its enclosure before dropping back onto the bed. "You can still take tomorrow off, too, if you want. Just stay around here-though it sounds like you need to set some ground rules with your little pet."

Sinbad shakes his head at that, dismissing it. "I can go home, I'm not worried about it. I have no issue with him bringing a girl home, I just didn't want to risk him wanting a threesome when I was exhausted." He rubs his face against Ja'far's shoulder, then drains his cup and snuggles up behind him. "Do you never have weird dreams?"

"If I do… I don't remember them," Ja'far admits, flopping back down entirely and simply letting Sinbad use him as some sort of large stuffed animal. "But that goes for all dreams. I think there's something wrong with my brain, regarding sleep." It's for the best, because if I kept having dreams about you dying, I'd go insane.

"That's for the best," Sinbad murmurs. "Trust me...you don't want dreams like this." He exhales deeply through his nose, closing his eyes as he tightens his arms. "You'd never be able to sleep alone either."

"I'd probably never be able to sleep," Ja'far quietly says, and he curls back against Sinbad's chest, gently butting his head up underneath the man's chin. "But you need to at least try to. I'll stay awake until I'm sure you are."

"Don't bother." Sinbad can already feel his limbs relaxing, feel his breath evening out. "I don't know if it's you or your tea, but I'm half there already."

"Good." Even though he's still going to make sure Sinbad is asleep long before he follows suit.

Ja'far never dreams, but he dreams that night.

Maybe it's the tea fumes. That's his excuse, anyway, when he wakes not in a cold sweat, but oddly clinging to Sinbad in turn-

"Just get your work done already!"

The Sinbad in his dream is oddly not so different, if not tanner, maybe a bit broader, draped in more clothes than Ja'far has ever seen him in and about as much jewelry.

"You can keep scolding me more," is his cheerful response, and damn if that isn't Sinbad to the core, no matter what era he seems to have walked out from.

"Hey, stupid king!" Sinbad's face twists briefly, and Ja'far feels something akin to overwhelming disgust well up within his chest. That voice is so familiar, and the swing of that long, thick braid-

Ja'far's face shoves its way into the other man's shoulder, an odd shiver creeping down his spine. He likes being the one without these sorts of odd issues. Probably, it's best not to even mention it.

"Cold?"

Sinbad's voice is hushed, hopefully pitched low enough that Ja'far will be able to ignore it if he's really asleep. He reaches up, shutting the window the inch he'd opened it, and tugs the blanket up over them. "We're getting sea breezes tonight. I thought the smell might calm me down. Sorry if it woke you."

"Ah… no. I'm fine." Ja'far shifts, rolling onto his back with a slow, measured sigh. "Did you manage any sleep at all?" he asks, eyes lidded as they slide over to Sinbad. Well, if he looks hard enough, he supposes the man does look the part of a king decently enough.

"A few more hours. It's enough to get by on, for sure." Sinbad stretches out, muscles aching as he does. "You should let me buy you a nicer bed. This one gives me a crick in my back, and I'm way too young for that."

"… You're going on thirty," Ja'far wryly points out, and slowly sits up, stretching out his own limbs. "Hey, Sin… what made you pick out 'Sinbad' as your stage name?"

Sinbad laughs, folding his arms behind his head, relaxing back as his feet hang off the end of the bed. "First film I ever did for Rashid had an Arabian Knights theme. He had something tackier in mind, but I cut out everything but the first word. Really, there are too many nautical puns in porn for anyone's own good. I liked the sound of 'Sinbad,' though. Kind of dangerous-sexy, and obviously fake so no one tried to stalk me by it. And it's not as cheesy as Dick LongDong or whatever else people were suggesting."

"I'd probably put you out of your misery if that were the case," Ja'far admits, shaking his head as he flops back down next to the other man. Sinbad really is too large for his bed. He sighs a bit, watching Sin's feet dangle. "I don't know why I was wondering. I've never even given it any thought." Until he had a dream with scrolls and Sinbad's name written in some obviously arabic language-how long has it been since he's had to read that, anyway? And it wasn't even the same as he remembered. Then again, dreams never make much sense, do they? He's over thinking this.

Sinbad's hand drops down to Ja'far's head, tousling sleep-mussed hair. "I'm not the only one with a fake name out of an Arabian fairytale. And at least mine fits my heritage, close enough. I mean, my mom was Indian, that's an Asian subcontinent, definitely close enough to be exotic. You never told me why the mob gave you your name." And I stopped asking years ago.

"Because I don't even know why myself," Ja'far protests, batting Sinbad's hands away. "Probably just to hide my identity when they sold me to another organization. I can't even remember the name my parents gave me sometimes, nor is it worth remembering."

"Barely remember my own," Sinbad admits. That's a lie-he does, but only in the voice of his mother, murmured into his ear as a child. "I've been Sinbad for half my life, the half I can remember a lot better. Well, at least I can remember the boring parts."

"Mmn. I wouldn't know what to do if I wasn't calling you Sin," Ja'far admits, and he twists onto his side, laying his head against Sinbad's shoulder. "Oddly enough, it suits you."

"Odder still," Sinbad points out, "that you're the only one who refers to a porn star as Sin. I always figured it would be obvious, but it's just you."

"… Really? I thought others would do it, too." Ja'far's eyes lid. "Maybe they're just intimidated by you. Honestly, you're kind of like a big puppy."

"I agree, I'm lovable and harmless." Sinbad rolls over, nudging Ja'far's shoulder with his face. "Why don't you like the ocean? If lived as close to the beach as you do, I'd never shut the window."

"I don't know." It reminds me of home is what he wants to say, but that isn't right, when he was born in a village in the middle of nowhere with only a damned slowly trickling river for miles. Ja'far shrugs a bit, sliding his hands back through Sinbad's hair. "We can trade. You can have this place and all the snakes, good luck with them."

Sinbad snorts. "I've offered you to come live in my place a dozen times. You'd be back here in a second, screaming at me for upgrading everything in here to the latest, comfiest models."

"That's a waste of money." Ja'far snorts. "And you have a live-in boyfriend now. Way more maintenance than my snakes."

"Yeah, but you can't feed your snakes leftover cheeseburgers. And they don't co-star in films and make you a shitload of money."

"I sell their venom on the black market."

"Of course you do." Sinbad laughs, getting an arm around Ja'far's shoulders. "That's probably about as safe as letting Judal stay in my house."

"Judal brings his girlfriends home, apparently," Ja'far mutters, his lips twisting. "And I know you don't believe me, but I have a bad feeling about him."

Sinbad strokes a thumb up Ja'far's shoulder, then down again. "I never said I didn't believe you."

"… But you don't feel the same way," Ja'far points out, giving Sinbad's hair a gentle tug. "You should really stop thinking with your dick when it comes to him."

"I never said I didn't feel the same way, either." Some of those dreams are entirely too vivid for comfort, especially after he'd met Judal. "I just don't think a bad feeling is worth hurting the kid over."

"So you're going to wait until he does something to hurt you?" Ja'far sighs, dropping his forehead against Sinbad's shoulder. "I don't understand that logic."

"I mean that he's a good kid, and he's never done anything to hurt me." Sinbad raises an eyebrow. "It's called the benefit of the doubt. I gave it to you, once."

"I was indebted to you," Ja'far insists, frowning up at him. "That's different."

"And he's living in my house, rent-free, and I got him out from under Kou's thumb and off heroin," Sinbad points out. "Just because he doesn't live by some obscure Old World code of honor doesn't mean he has no conscience."

"You say that, but…" A long sigh, and Ja'far shuts his eyes, annoyed. "Fine. Forget it. I know you're going to do whatever you want regarding him, anyway."

"He is my boyfriend." There's a slight element of reproach to it. "A position I've offered to you many times, you know."

"I am about as far from boyfriend material as you'll ever see."

"Mmm. I'd rather not date you, anyway," Sinbad says with a grin. "We're already pretty much married."

Ja'far levels a stare at him. "So then you're keeping a mistress. Good luck with that."

"Men of power and wealth do that all the time," Sinbad says, unconcerned. "At least the two of you know about each other. My conscience is at peace."

"And here I was contemplating taking you out for breakfast. Pass."

"Are you saying you think I'm immoral?" Sinbad asks. "I'm not lying to anyone. I'm not hurting anyone. Want me to cook?"

"I'm saying I don't like your boyfriend," Ja'far bluntly retorts. "And there's nothing in the fridge except thawing rats, sorry."

"Thawing-" Sinbad swallows hard. "Uh. Do they come with eggs? Because otherwise I'll go for iHop instead."

"We can do that instead. Relax, they're shrink-wrapped. You know how I am about everything being clean." Ja'far stretches, rolling away slightly. "I just need to feed everyone, and then we can go. Take a shower or something, you're still all weird from last night. You left your clothes here from last time, I washed them if you'd like to change."

"Perfect. You're right, I'm...well. Smelly. That's a good word for it." That's a good word for being dry after being soaked with a cold sweat. Good enough. "Sure you don't want to join me?"

"… Give me ten minutes and I might." He can indulge Sinbad once in awhile, he supposes.

Instead of waiting, Sinbad gets the shower started, spending a good portion of ten minutes just letting hot water run down through the thick mass of his unbound hair, letting it trickle down his body as he stands, eyes closed, facing the spray. By the time ten minutes have passed, he can't even remember the meat of the dreams, only reality, and that's as much as he can ask from any shower.

Ja'far slinks in only a few minutes past when he said he would, stripping his clothes in short order and pulling the curtain aside to step in. "We do both fit better in your shower," he admits, and he reaches for the bottle of shampoo and Sinbad's hair. "You look like you're feeling better now, at least."

"Much better. Remember to take compensation for all the shampoo I use out of the budget," he says with a grin. "Need me to kneel for you to do that?"

"I can reach." If I stand on tiptoe. Sinbad really must go through a fortune in shampoo, because it nearly clears out the bottle by time he's done lathering up the man's hair thoroughly. "I'll never understand," Ja'far murmurs, kneading his fingers along Sinbad's scalp, "how you manage to put up with this much hair."

"I was born with it. It's either put up with it or shave my head every day, and that's a look that's never appealed to me." Ja'far has lovely fingers, quick and light and clever, and they work wonders in his hair, against his scalp. "Looks good on me, though, doesn't it?"

"I think you are one of the few men that can wear this much hair and look good, rather than ridiculous," Ja'far admits, lightly digging his thumbs into the back of Sinbad's neck to quickly work out a lingering kink there before kneading in smooth, firm circles behind his ears. "Step under the water and wash that out while I do mine."

Sinbad lets out a slow groan, head lolling forward as he does as he's told, then turns around. "Let me do yours. Any excuse to get my hands on you."

"… Said as if you ever bother with an excuse." Ja'far doesn't protest, though, and hands Sinbad the bottle as he turns around. "At least mine's easy."

"But I like to have one. Then you hiss at me less." Sinbad empties the rest of the bottle-definitely going to pay him back-into his hand, works up a lather between his palms, and starts threading his fingers through the fine shock of silvery hair. "Did your parents have hair like this? Or are you an albino?"

"Albinos typically have blue or even red-appearing eyes, you know," Ja'far patiently answers, obviously used to the question by now. How many times has he answered it with Sinbad in particular, really, and it's hard to be annoyed when Sinbad's fingers feel good. "My parents did have hair like this, I think. Most of the people in my village were very pale-haired, blonde or even lighter."

"Huh. That makes sense." A tug towards him brings Ja'far under the spray, his back flush against Sinbad's broad chest. "Your hair is so fine though. It's like it disappears when it's wet, mine's just as huge as ever."

"That's probably the Indian thing." Ja'far sinks back against him, his eyes shutting as he lets the water run over him. Sinbad is as warm and solid as ever, and though he can't help but think about how they're wasting perfectly good hot water, this is still nice. "At least you don't have hair like Judal's."

"His hair is gorgeous, though." Sinbad laughs, running his hands up and down Ja'far's torso, slowly washing the shampoo away down the drain. "If you know so much about eugenics, explain the Rens. Red-haired Asians, what's that about?"

"… Weird," Ja'far settles upon, wriggling a little in spite of himself. Sinbad's hands are distracting now, and it's hard not to sag back all the way no matter how he'd like to, lest the curve of his ass press back rather… forwardly. "Probably dye."

"Probably. The younger ones especially, that girly boy is bright pink. Creepy little shit." Sinbad's hands wander down to Ja'far's hips, then the top of his thighs, hands squeezing a little more than they need to. "You feel good, Ja'far."

"Ah…" Ja'far swallows hard, and there's really no helping the lurch backwards now, not when his legs wobble a bit and Sinbad is just too solid and warm not to lean back against. "Are you always this touchy after a bad night's sleep?" he murmurs, and it honestly doesn't come out as annoyed as he wished it did, especially when his own hands slide down to rest atop Sinbad's.

"I'm pretty much this touchy in general," Sinbad admits. His hands tighten slightly, and he slides them up, over Ja'far's chest, as he leans down to nuzzle into the side of his neck. "I thought you'd like it better if you knew I were clean. Guess I was right."

"It helps," he admits, exhaling a slow, hitching breath as his head tips to the side. "Does my OCD really come off that strongly? Don't answer that."

"But I think it's cute. Except when it's the reason you don't like my hands on you," Sinbad admits, letting his teeth scrape gently over one curved ear. "You squeak so much when you're anxious."

"I don't squeak-" Except his voice does break a little when Sinbad's teeth set to his skin, and Ja'far shivers, his eyes lidding as he wriggles back, his ass sliding against the hardening line of Sinbad's cock. "We're going to waste all the hot water," he huffs out, his head lolling back against Sinbad's shoulder.

"So send me your water bill. I don't care." Sinbad lets out a slow, even breath, hips rubbing forward in an easy rock, cock hardening every second more and more as he sets his mouth to the side of Ja'far's neck. "Some things are worth the waste."

"Holding you to that one," Ja'far groans, pulse jumping underneath Sinbad's mouth, a whimper strangled into his throat as he swings one hand out to brace against the wall of the shower, giving himself a bit more leverage to arch his back and grind backwards. This isn't how he visualized his morning going. For once, he can't say he minds the change in plans.

Sinbad laughs, urging Ja'far's supple thighs apart, letting his cock slide forward between them, sighing at the soft press of them on all sides. "When have you ever known me to be stingy with my money? Or….hmmm...unwilling to reward your….cooperation?"

Ja'far shivers, his eyes flickering down as Sinbad's cock slides forward, the dripping head of it just visible as it sinks between his thighs. He bites his lip, briefly shutting his eyes again when his own cock jumps, aching at just the sight. "S-so this is… cooperation?" he half-laughs, and hesitantly, he slides a hand down, swallowing when his thumb brushes over the head of Sinbad's cock when it ruts forward again, coming away sticky and slick even underneath the hot spray of water.

"Well….you're not pulling away, are you?" Sinbad's grin is wolfish, and he moves forward, pressing Ja'far's front against one tiled wall, sliding easily forward and back, letting the shampoo make everything slippery slick. "So I guess it's up to you. What kind of reward do you want?"

The press of the cool tile wall against his flushed face when he rubs it there makes him shudder even harder, and Ja'far wriggles, reflex making him stretch onto his tiptoes to better arch back, his hands flatting against the wall. "Don't have to reward me," he groans, eyes fluttering as his thighs squeeze tighter about Sinbad's cock, feeling the pulse of it between them. "I'm not… you make it sound like you have to pay me-to do this-when I just like it-"

Sinbad chuckles, voice changing to a slow hiss at the squeeze of Ja'far's thighs around him, and his hands tighten on Ja'far's hips, pulling him flush. "Took me too long to get you in my bed," he admits, nibbling on Ja'far's neck. "Hard to forget it was so difficult I thought I'd have to bribe you at first. Just like that, press your legs together."

"No bribing," is the huff to follow, and Ja'far swallows around another, broken noise, his thighs squeezing tight as his hips jerk forward when his cock slides against the shower wall. "And-logistics, but-I haven't been in your bed yet."

Sinbad blinks, hips pausing as he frowns. "Huh. You haven't, have you? That seems….odd. I want you there, that's for sure." He slides forward with a low, feral noise in his throat, sucking hard on the smaller man's neck, pulling back for just a second to rub the head of his cock over Ja'far's hole before sliding forward between his thighs again. "Want you everywhere."

"Everywhere-within reason," Ja'far manages to agree when his voice catches in his throat, his head lolling forward. The throb of his own cock almost hurts now, with every twitch of his hips against the wall driving him mad, and he groans as he ruts back, wriggling forward enough to let Sinbad's cock slip from his thighs again, all the better to slide his ass up against the hard length of it. "Feels good," he admits on a mumble, face flushing hotter. "I like it-when it's not quite in… but you still rub it there."

"You like being teased."

Sinbad thrusts forward again, rubbing up this time to let the full length of his cock slide over that tight little hole, up, down, and forward again, so hard his cock is aching, throbbing. "Not gonna last long." He slides a hand around, wrapping around Ja'far's lovely, heavy cock, stroking slowly. "You about ready?"

Sinbad's hand makes his hips jerk, an eager, needy little squirm thrusting his cock up into the rough, slick slide of his palm. Ja'far manages a nod, his mouth falling open to suck in a deep, ragged gasp, and that's it, when he's already so hard and Sinbad is touching him and his cock is almost inside him but not quite-

He comes with a lurch, fingers curling white-knuckled against the wall and teeth sinking into his lip to keep back a thoroughly incriminating whine as he spills, shivering all the way down to his arched toes, with his legs wobbling and thinking very seriously about giving out from under him.

It's hard for Sinbad even to tell whether Ja'far spills first or he does, hot and wet over the inside of Ja'far's thighs, rubbing it in with every last, ragged thrust as he sighs, wrapping his arms hard around the smaller man. "Good," he murmurs. He kisses Ja'far's cheek, sighing. "Really, really good."

Ja'far flops back against him, his head rolling back to press against Sinbad's shoulder. "Get rid of your pet," he breathlessly mutters, "and I'll do that with you in your bed."

Sinbad lets out a groan, wrapping his arms tight around Ja'far, flopping back against the wall. "Had him for a month at most," he mutters, "and I've had the bed for years. Why now?"

"Because I only just now thought it was a good idea to sleep with you. Ugh, the water is getting cold," Ja'far grumbles, reaching around to turn it off. "Stay put, I still have those extra large towels you like."

Sinbad wrings out his hair for the first of many times, twisting and untwisting, hearing water spill to the bottom of the tub. "Yes sir. I love your comfy towels, where did you get them?"

"Amazing what a person can find when they do their own shopping," Ja'far drawls, pulling out a pair of towels-one for the man's hair, another for his body-and then one for himself. "Here. If you're still up for going out to breakfast, we can do that, or I can run out and get it for us and you can try and curl up again."

"Sleep is for the weak." Sinbad towels off happily, trying to subdue the desire to roll around in the towels-they're obscenely comfortable, really, and they smell delicate and sweet and like freshly laundered sunshine. "Pancakes, on the other hand, are for the powerful and wealthy and attractive. Lead the way."