Work Text:
The snow had begun in the night, and by morning was falling heavily. There would be no breaking camp and moving on in this weather, so even though it meant another delay, Jalal al-Din gave the order to stay in place and wait out the storm. He lounged by the brazier, watching his diligent secretary at work across the great tent. Nasawi was intent on his documents, his pen skittering across the pages. He didn’t turn to look at Jalal al-Din at all; he had said before that it was too distracting. Jalal al-Din was certainly distracted looking at Nasawi. He was small in stature and slight in build, which only made him more attractive, and he was dedicated in his work – and even more dedicated to Jalal al-Din himself.
Nasawi’s writing slowed, until finally his hands stilled. He cautiously set down his pen, before quietly rubbing his hands together, shifting ever so slightly to turn his back further and conceal his movements. Jalal al-Din suddenly realized that while the brazier was warm next to him, the tent was large enough that Nasawi’s hands must be growing cold after writing for so long. And yet he hadn’t said a word, and now was even trying to hide it.
Nasawi still hadn’t picked up his pen, focused on rubbing the circulation back into his fingers, but he showed no signs of taking a break from his work. This was obviously unacceptable, so Jalal al-Din had no choice but to take matters into his own hands. Literally, in this case.
“Nasawi!”
He startled at the sudden loud voice. “Yes, milord? I’m sorry, I’ll return to my work right away.”
“Forget that, Nasawi, you’re freezing. Come here where it’s warm.”
“But milord, these papers…” Nasawi began to argue, but at a single look from Jalal al-Din he stopped and bowed his head. “Yes, milord.”
Nasawi sat down primly on a cushion next to him, but he had hardly done so before Jalal al-Din pulled him backward to lean against his chest.
“Give me your hands.”
One does not refuse Jalal al-Din, and Nasawi especially never would, so with a guilty look he held up his hands, knowing he had been caught. Jalal al-Din wrapped Nasawi in his arms, with his big, warm hands enveloping Nasawi’s smaller ones.
“Your hands are freezing. Why didn’t you say something?”
“The documents were very important...” It seemed an insufficient reason, with Jalal al-Din’s warm eyes looking at him like that, “I wanted to make the most of another day not on the move, to compensate for the delays in milord’s other plans.”
“You don’t control the weather, it’s not like this delay is your fault.”
Nasawi looked earnestly into his eyes, “Still, I want to ease milord’s burdens, however I can.”
Jalal al-Din couldn’t help but be moved by such devotion, but it wouldn’t be enough to let Nasawi go back to his work quite yet, so he squeezed Nasawi’s hands in his.
“Not at the expense of yourself like this. Your hands are important. I’ll be worried about you if I think you’re not taking care of yourself.”
“Yes, milord.” Nasawi bowed his head, cheeks flushing from more than mere warmth as he looked away from Jalal al-Din’s piercing gaze.
They waited out the storm like that, Nasawi wrapped in Jalal al-Din’s embrace. He finally relented and allowed Nasawi to return to his writing, but only if he brought a low table over to the cushions and brazier so he could work without leaving Jalal al-Din’s lap. To keep him warm so he doesn’t freeze, Jalal al-Din said, but really he just wanted to keep Nasawi close and never let him go.