Sweet Dreams (ONESHOT FLUFF)

1

Times like now made Jean miss France.

Her rolling hills and lush countryside brought him immense peace of mind, and sometimes he could hear the wind rustling along the trees, the faint voice of his sister calling out to him from the other end of a random road they walked. He would kick at the ground and run to her if he wasn't stuck in the desert with two children, a senior citizen and the mysterious Egyptian that he couldn't quite place his feelings for.

Speaking of the man, he returned to the main room of their hotel from the shower, locs that were usually wound into tight knots falling all over his shoulders and brushing his ass. He donned only a towel, and it sat dangerously low on his hips, smooth, deep skin still damp.

He sat down on the only bed in the room, taking note of Polnareff looking like a lost child as he stared down at the streets of Cairo on the hotel's balcony. The Frenchman nursed a cigarette and Avdol smiled as he watched the broken heart earrings he donned jingle a bit with every breath he took.

Avdol quickly changed, not noticing how Polnareff's eyes had been glued to him once he started putting on his shirt. He began tying his hair with a silk headwrap he had recently bought, splurging because of anxiety.

The task that normally took him less than five minutes took a considerable amount of time, and he was so consumed by the damn thing that he didn't notice Polnareff walk in.

"Are you needing help with that, my friend?"

Avdol jumped and turned to face Polnareff, who seemed like he was barely containing a laugh.

"I don't-" he considered it for a moment. "Maybe."

"Allow me to see what I can do."

Avdol quietly noted the interesting way the words rolled off of his tounge.

After some troubleshooting, Polnareff had successfully tied the wrap, smiling uncontrollably and drowning himself in praise.

The darker skinned man stayed silent for a moment.

"Thank you, Pol." he smiled softly.

Polnareff's face immediately flushed and he gestured wildly, trying to put together a sentence to impress him.

Avdol watched him, a smile creeping onto his face.

"I um, well I-I, it was was nothing!" was all he managed to get out.

Avdol hummed in response and pointed toward the bathroom with his thumb.

"You should check if the water's heated up. We're not sharing a bed if you smell like sweat and god knows what."

"At least I don't smell like a bookstore." Polnareff gave him a short laugh before grabbing his sack of things and entering the bathroom.

Avdol sniffed himself immediately, eyebrows furrowed.

"That bastard."

~

Polnareff turned on the shower, fine with it being a bit cool, as the heat from outside had been wearing down on him. He peeled off his black top and examined his skin, taking note of different bruises and freckles and acne, and trying to plan how he would hide them.

He especially hated his freckles, and hated the way they snuck onto his skin while he was under the beating sun. He often covered his face, and that helped with the worst of it, but still, he could see them faintly on his cheeks. They made him look childish in his mind.