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The first time Cassim allows Alibaba to touch his cheek--to run his calloused finger tips along the length of his cheekbone, to rub his thumb against the point of Cassim's chin, and smile at the soft curve of Cassim's glare--he knows. He knows he's been ensnared, that Alibaba has unwittingly trapped him with the warmness of his smiles, the easy intimacy of passing touches. "You don't have to go easy on me," he says in the silence that stretches briefly between them. Alibaba's eyes widen as if he's affronted by the mere suggestion and Cassim grins, quick and devious, before he tackles Alibaba to the ground.
He laughs when Alibaba shouts at him, tells him to be mindful of his injuries, but soon enough the blond is laughing too--rich and full and breathless--and Cassim can feel the hollow spaces in his chest filling, becoming warmer from each glimpse he catches of Alibaba's reckless smile. He's doomed, he thinks when Sharrkan finally steps in to separate them; but he thinks he doesn't mind.
Alibaba offers his hand to help him up, asks if he's okay, and Cassim smiles and takes Alibaba's hand; he admires the strength in the younger teen's grip before clapping his hand over the blond's tanned shoulder. Alibaba turns towards him, mouth still hinting at the wide smile he's holding back, the impressions of laugh lines making something in Cassim's chest tighten, and curls his fingers over the back of Cassim's palm.
"You're okay?" he asks, words edged with concern. He thinks he hears reluctance in the question and Cassim nods, grins back, and lets his fingers linger along Alibaba's bared skin before he pulls away. Cassim has never felt so warm.
**
They share sips from the same goblet over dinner; Cassim lets his fingertips linger along the edges of Alibaba's knuckles as they pass the wine back and forth and Cassim can feel Aladdin and Morgiana's gazes following their movements. He thinks, briefly, that perhaps he should feel unnerved by their stares, of the fact that even though these two have been so forgiving that they know how many times Cassim has dug into Alibaba's defenses only to tear them down with malicious intent. But his focus is intent on the glossiness of Alibaba's lips and the laugh he can hear bubbling at the back of the blond's throat rather than the looks anyone is shooting their way.
He wants to say something to draw Alibaba's attention, to direct the blond's smile towards him; but the words that loll at the tip of his tongue feel too clumsy, too childish. Cassim, as he contemplates the warmth of Alibaba pressing against his side, leans further against Alibaba, rests his cheek against the blond's shoulder. Alibaba curls one hand over Cassim's knee; their thighs touch.
Cassim turns, presses his lips to Alibaba's skin and the sharp, salt tang of the sea air makes the flush rising on his cheeks feel all the more apparent when Alibaba's fingers tighten on his knee. "I'm tired," he murmurs against Alibaba's shoulder, voice low enough to be drowned out by the hum of conversation echoing around the table. Alibaba pauses, rubs his thumb up the side of Cassim's thigh.
"Okay," Alibaba says, warm and indulgent, and Cassim hums, content to let Alibaba guide him to his feet.