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fireworks over the sand dunes, my hand in yours || jamil viper

he's not really in the mood to celebrate, considering he's the one who ran himself ragged organising the entire thing, but seeing the fireworks with you? that's something he won't miss.

a/n: ugh i haven't written jamil in centuries i don't even know if this is gonna be good, but he won't leave my brain rn so here goes- also I wrote this for @merotwst's contest but couldn't get it out in time >:( and then kept moving accounts but I do be tagging you anyway, mero!!

p.s. jamil fell into elephant shit at some point before the fic started and he's very upset about that but we love him even at his stinkiest (it stinks like hell btw)

word count: does it matter bc we get kissies from jamil- nvm, it's 1,354 words

if there was anything beyond 'fucking exhausted' that could be used to describe himself right now, jamil would use it without hesitation. because really, who wants to be sweaty, definitely smelling like an elephant's behind and spices, and aching all over? not him. not by choice.

and he needs a shower before you get here- oh sevens you're here and he smells horrible-

and he doesn't miss the way your nose wrinkles just a little bit at the way he smells before sighing, chuckling and smiling, all in that exact order. what part of him smelling like elephant shit makes you happy.

"you definitely need a shower," you smile as you come closer and tuck his loose hair behind his ears.

"i was going to take one before you arrived," he murmurs gently, distancing himself from you. "you're early though."

"thought i'd help out a little, considering kalim," you respond earnestly, and although that's been your reasoning for so long, it still manages to catch him off guard. "thank god i arrived when i did, though, you really need a break. go ahead and take as much time as you need, okay? trust me, stinky stuff really sets in your skin and they won't leave without a good soak and scrubbing yourself of, like, four layers of skin."

"alright," jamil sighs, knowing that once you'd set your mind to give him a break, you'd do anything possible- legal, illegal or a concerningly secret third thing- to make sure he took it. "just make sure that arham and arifa don't sneak into the kitchen, would you? they've already had enough snacks. and tell kalim that he needs to go over to the pavilion and meet lady asim to make sure there's enough private space for the ladies, and also her highness safah will be attending and she's allergic to-"

"jamil," you cut him, a steady and uncalloused hand on his bicep. "we'll be fine. go take a break, love. i remember you keeping a written list of things to do somewhere- is it on you? or is it in the kitchen like in scarabia?"

"it's on a hook in the kitchen," jamil answers you, caught unaware about how you noticed that after only a month of dating. kalim, having grown up with him, hadn't ever noticed the list.

no, he shouldn't be comparing kalim to you. that does you and your effort a disservice.

"then i'll check the list out, and figure things out. and i need keep specifically arham, arifa and kalim out of the kitchen, right?"

"yes."

"alright. take your time, and do not let me see out until you've gotten rid of the elephant smell," you warn, finger wagging comically as you walk out of the room.

jamil walks into the shower and scrubs himself clean, and wow, to remove the stench it really felt like he was peeling off layers of skin. not even najma's strongly scented soaps did anything to coat the smell radiating off of him.

as jamil exits the shower after almost- wait, 35 minutes?!- of showering, he finds himself waling past the bath reserved for kalim, filled with hot water but empty, the lights switched off.

ugh, he didn't even come to shower? jamil sighs with annoyance as he switches on an overhead light with bated breath, waiting for someone, anyone, another servant, master al-asim himself-

but no one comes.

jamil steps gingerly into the water, not before laying a towel near where he would exit to hide his footprints, and he sighs, the hot water surrounding him doing so much better than the shower at relaxing his aching muscles. and as usual, his thoughts turn back to you.

what might you be doing now, while picking up his slack? might you be tending to lady asim, as frail as she is? might you be running after kalim like he does on the daily, reminding him of who to meet and who to greet and who to bow down to like he does? or might you be in the kitchen in the middle of curious and excitable children, one on your hip as you stir the broth?

jamil dives into the water at the last image, because what the actual fuck was that. what in the world. no, no, no, no, no. it's too early for that, wayyyyy too early for that. he's only 17, and he'd be servant forever, and-

but would you want that? would you want that with him one day?

jamil blinks stuff out of his eyes (no they're not tears, ew disgusting, why would he cry, he would never cry over having a domestic life with the person he loves, no no no no no) as he gets up, wrapping a towel around himself and silently exiting the bath, making sure no water droplets are found anywhere near.

jamil dresses himself quickly and exits his room, but finds himself with nothing to do, per se- the event was in full swing, and all the al-asims were attending, the men and kalim and his father in the main building while lady asim and his mother and najma and the women sat outside in the summer wind, debating family and other issues over tea.

you're nowhere to be found, of course. perhaps you're somewhere else?

um no. no, you're not. where the hell did you go? (idk make smth up here you're the fucking protagonist i can't do everything for you can i- no wait actually i must.) jamil sighs as he unlocks his phone and dials your number, waiting for you to pick up the call.

"hey jamil!" you chirp, the harsh desert wind heard over your voice clearly. "i'm out here near the oasis!"

"why are you there?" it's a dumb question

trekking up a sand dune (after trekking through a ton of sand), jamil finds you sitting alone on a blanket, the wind blowing your hair messily, giving your tired face some respite.

"hey, jamil!" you smile and wave, and jamil remembers what he imagined in the bath, flushing and taking a few steps backward. "jamil?"

"h-hey, [name]." ew ew ew why stuttering WHY WHY WHY

"come on over here, i snuck some food out hehehe."

"hmm. i wonder why." jamil comments as he sits down next to you, reaching towards the basket in between the two of you for a snack, pulling out a falafel wrap that was still warm and smelt divine.

"i figured you'd be hungry! that way, you can eat and relax as much as you like. lady asim also told me about a nice spot for the fireworks, but there'll be people there, so i thought about coming out here instead."

"good idea, it really is packed to the brim there. kalim's father loves to entertain people, so everyone's mother and uncle tries to get into his good graces during this period- so that they receive an invite."

"poor kalim, he has to deal with weirdos the entire night, when we're out here enjoying the view and a singular falafel wrap."

"how dare you insult how fast i eat my food."

"you eat slower than a snail."

"at least i don't inhale my food like a vacuum cleaner. why am i in love with a vacuum cleaner, i wonder."

"in love?"

"i-" jamil pauses, the wrap an inch away from his mouth as he tries to form an answer- something around the lines of i was kidding, just kidding, i'm too busy for love, too deep into servitude for love- but in the end chooses to say nothing, physically wiliting as he waits for a response.

"well, i had thought so, but then i started noticing a lot of things you did for me. thanks for the mid-meal confession though," you chuckle warmly as the breeze blows gently once again, and jamil doesn't stop you as you take his calloused hands in yours and kiss his hands and palms gently, smiling chuckling after every kiss.

he doesn't say anything when the first picture he has of his lover is under a beautiful array of fireworks either.

tagging @bakedgrape and @inkybloom-luv [esp. inky bc i know she could use the pick-me-up]

Nobody tells you how hard it is to rewire your brain so you can allow amazing things to happen to you after so much trauma or hurt. Blessings exist, good people exist, a softer life exists. Let it happen.

Depression and the arts

[Description:  A three panel cartoon of me sitting in front of my cintiq, working myself up to draw, because ‘nothing changes is you stop trying.’]