A/N: Another modern Aladdin AU story and this one was inspired by Friends. I've been binge-watching the show after finding out Netflix will be taking it off and, let me tell you, having an Aladdin obsession while binge-watching Friends is not a good combination. I'd also like to introduce a fun game in this fanfic called guess the Aladdin character. I will give other Aladdin characters minor roles and it's your job to figure out who's who.

I don't own anything in this fanfic, and I certainly don't own you.

* * *

You woke up in your comfy bed with a pounding migraine, as if your head were about to burst. You turned the lamp on, the very light assaulting your eyes. You looked around to see the familiar sights of the brown walls, beautiful roses in the vase on the brown nightstand with the smell calming you. You saw the brown desk across from you right below the TV built into the wall, the door to the right of the room, Jafar sleeping in his boxers right next to you. Wait a minute, Jafar?

You screamed at the top of your lungs, waking Jafar up with a jolt. "(Y/N)?" he asked groggily, placing his hand on his head. "What are you doing in my bed?"

"Your bed?" you asked, putting your hand on your head as your migraine came back.

Of course this is Jafar's room. The door to your room was to the left of your bed, not the right.

"What happened?" you asked, trying to recall the events of last night and ending up with nothing. "How did I end up in your bed?"

"Maybe we got really wild last night," Jafar remarked. "Pity we were too drunk to remember it."

You peeked at yourself under the bed, still wearing your underwear but no bra. "No, we didn't," you said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Sorry you find the idea of sex with me so repulsive."

"Well forgive me for not wanting to be known as the slut who slept with her boss," you shot back.

"What happens in Vegas—"

"—Stays in Vegas," you finished, well aware of the motto. "But there's a difference between hooking up with a stranger and hooking up with the guy who writes your paychecks."

You heard your phone ringing in the living room, taking you out of this awkward state. "Jafar, could you get that?" you asked.

"You get it," Jafar told you. "It's your phone."

"I can't, I'm not decent," you admitted, paying extra attention to the cover shielding your almost naked form.

"I, on the other hand, would fit right in at a dinner party," Jafar remarked.

"I..." you tried to explain, feeling your face turn red. "I'm not wearing a bra."

Jafar gave a sleazy grin. "Then perhaps we did do something last night," he suggested.

"We didn't do anything," you insisted. "And, if you keep saying we did, I will knee you so hard in the balls, you will never be able to do anything again."

"All right, I'll get your phone," Jafar said, getting off the bed and running towards the door as your phone continued to ring.

You stayed in bed, keeping the covers right over your breasts hoping that Jafar's speculations were just that. It's not that you didn't feel an attraction to Jafar, far from it, but he was your boss and you didn't even want to think about how awkward that would be. Jafar came back with your phone in one hand and your red bra in the other.

"What are you doing with my bra?" You demanded to know.

"Relax, I saw it in the living room and I didn't want to trap you in my bed all day," Jafar explained then broke out into the same sleazy grin from before. "Interesting color choice."

"Give me that!" you told Jafar, grabbing the bra from his hands. "And turn around."

Jafar turned around, making you feel safe enough to drop the covers. "You do realize that there's a chance I might have already seen your breasts," he pointed out as you put your bra on backwards.

"Yeah, but you were too drunk to remember them," you argued as you turned your bra around. "You can turn around now."

He turned around and looked you up and down. "I'll take seeing you in a red bra as a nice consolation prize," he said, handing you your phone.

You stared at the living Adonis in front of you with strong arms, that well-toned chest and those ripped abs with the only clothes on him being those black boxers, which you wanted to rip off. "Like what you see?" he asked with a confident smirk.

You threw your phone to the side. "Take me, Jafar," you told the image of perfection standing right in front of you. "Take me now."

He wasted no time taking you into his arms, enveloping your lips in a passionate kiss. You returned the embrace and wrapped your legs around his waist. His tongue wasted no time entering your mouth as you ran your fingers through his thick curly black hair. He was just about to unhook your bra until you heard Jafar's voice say, "(Y/N)."

You snapped out of your fantasy to see that Jafar still had that same smirk. "Really, that much?" he asked.

"Don't flatter yourself," you told him, looking at your phone to see a few notifications and a call from Genie. "I've got to take this."

You left the room, going through the living room to see your clothes scattered on the floor along with Jafar's suit a golden crown on the floor and a broken snake staff near the back wall. "Why do we have a crown and a snake staff?" you wondered aloud.

"Maybe we were role-playing," Jafar suggested. "You were the princess from a faraway land and I was an evil sorcerer who hypnotized you to do my bidding."

"Is that speculation or a fantasy of yours?"

"A little of both," Jafar admitted.

You went back to your room, dialing Genie's number and putting him on speaker.

"How's my favorite southern belle?" Genie asked as you opened your closet.

"Tweeting and instagramming about my Vegas trip, just like you recommended," you said, taking out your chosen outfit. "You calling to give me advice or are you calling about a gig?"

"C: None of the above," Genie told you as you put on pants. "I'm calling to congratulate you."

"On what?" you asked, putting your shirt on. "I know I picked up a few followers, but not enough to pick up my career."

"(Y/N), don't play dumb with me," Genie said with a laugh. "Why didn't you tell me you planned on getting hitched?"

"Because I didn't get hitched," you told him, putting your socks on.

"So, that's not you in your latest post?"

"My latest post was about how Vegas can make even the most professional businessmen act like frat boys," you said, putting on your shoes.

"And you posted this at the bar, right?"

"Yeah," you said, flipping your hair out of your shirt. "I posted my location, like you told me to."

"How much did you have to drink?"

"Quite a bit," you admitted. "To be honest, I blacked out after the bar."

"You might want to check your latest post."

"Why, did I make some stupid drunk post again?" you joked.

"Just check it," Genie told you.

You went to your laptop on the desk and searched instagram, the first picture on your profile being of you and Jafar at a wedding chapel with stupid grins on your faces and a golden crown on your head. The caption below the picture read "ME AT A VEGAS CHAPEL, ABOUT TO MARRY THE MAN OF MY DREAMS!"

"Genie, I've got to go," you said, quickly hanging up your phone and taking it to the living room.

You left your room and saw Jafar at the bar dressed in one of his tailored suits with two old-fashioned glasses, each one containing a raw egg yolk, Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco.

"What is that?" you asked, wrinkling your nose is disgust.

"Prairie oysters," Jafar explained, sprinkling salt on the drinks, if they could even be called that. "A cure for hangovers."

"I think I'll keep the hangover," you responded, sticking your nose up at the drink.

"All right," he said, sprinkling pepper on the drinks as you collapsed on the couch. "You want to go through the whole day with an upset stomach and a pounding migraine, be my guest."

Then again, maybe it would be best to stay on your boss's good side before you dropped the bombshell on him. "I'll take the drink," you said, going over to the bar and taking a glass of what might as well be fat. "Might as well get this over with."

"On three," Jafar said, holding his glass up. "1... 2..."

"3," you said quickly and downed the drink, feeling what tasted like snot going down your throat.

You put the glass down and gagged while Jafar stood on the other side, acting as if he just drank a glass of orange juice.

"I take it this isn't your first hangover," you speculated.

"Sadly no."

"I'm guessing booze must have been very common in the Bronx."

"And I'm guessing you rode a horse to school," Jafar responded with tranquil anger.

"All right, point taken."

"Actually, I never touched alcohol before becoming a CEO," Jafar admitted. "Many people in my circle refuse to do business with you unless you prove yourself."

"And the way to do that is to get yourself so wasted, you can't even count to ten?" you remarked. "Much less, make solid business decisions."

Jafar laughed. "When you put it like that, it does sound rather stupid."

You smiled. "I'm actually no stranger to drinking."

"Really?" Jafar responded, sounding intrigued.

"I wasn't exactly a party girl," you admitted. "But, when I was a kid, I did sneak drinks of my parents' wine at night."

"You don't have to be a party girl to have a wild side," Jafar pointed out. "I think last night was proof enough of that."

You face fell. "Yeah, about last night," you said, turning your phone on and opening the Instagram app. "You were right, something did happen but it's not what you think." You showed Jafar the post, his eyes widening as he read the post. "My agent called this morning to congratulate me."

"Why did you have to post this?"

"In case you forgot, I was drunk!" you pointed out. "My rational brain cells were seriously malfunctioning!"

"Do you have any idea what this will do to me?" Jafar panicked. "I'll be the laughing stock of the business world!"

"That's what concerns you?" you asked, glaring at Jafar. "Not that you woke up with a wife?"

"Well, uh..." Jafar began as if he was struggling to find the right words. "A drunk marriage can be annulled, but the damage to my reputation will take years to repair!" Then quickly added. "Besides, they wouldn't let us get married if we were that drunk."

"Yeah, because that worked out so well for Ross and Rachel," you said, rolling your eyes and reading the post again. "However, it does say that we were getting married, so there's a chance that we didn't go through with it."

"And what difference does that make?" Jafar demanded to know.

"Because the last post I remember making was about how Vegas can turn even the most responsible people into party animals," you told him. "If we're not married, I can always claimed that it was a commentary on the Vegas lifestyle that you were more than happy to participate in."

"And if we are married?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," you said, grabbing your purse.

* * *

"First things first," you said, walking with Jafar into the casino. "If we want to find out what happened last night, we'll have to retrace our steps."

"I remember we were drinking here," Jafar said, looking at the inhabitants, some of them sitting at the bar, some of them on slot machines and some of them playing blackjack.

"Jafar!" they shouted, raising their glasses to him and then spotted you. "(Y/N)!"

"Looks like we're famous," you stated.

"Yeah, but for what?" Jafar said, looking around warily.

"Well, if it isn't James Bond and Moneypenny," a disgruntled voice behind you said. "Or is it Tony Stark and Pepper Potts?"

You and Jafar turned around to see the bartender glaring at the two of you.

"I take it we made a better impression on the customers than we did on you," Jafar remarked.

"Pretty easy when you leave your credit card and tell the customers that all of their drinks are on you," the bartender explained.

"I what?" Jafar asked, the alarm in his voice evidently clear. "I'd like to cancel that right now!"

"Okay," the bartender said, taking a card out from the drawers. "Here's your card back." The bartender printed off a very long paper. "And your receipt."

Jafar grabbed the paper as if it were a matter of life and death. Then he froze there as if the paper said that he had to declare bankruptcy.

"Come on, you fly around in a private jet, I'm sure you can —" Jafar shoved the paper into your hands, the total alarming you. "Although that is pretty steep."

"I took the liberty of adding the two shot glasses you and your girlfriend broke," the bartender said, taking someone else's order.

"She's not my—" Jafar started and then registered what the bartender told you. "What do you mean we broke a couple of shot glasses?"

"Let me guess, you two got so drunk you blacked out," the bartender said, to which you and Jafar both nodded. "Wouldn't be the first time that's happened in Vegas."

"Look, we're sorry about the glasses and anything else we might have done," you told him with clear regret. "We just want to piece together what we can't remember."

The bartender began his story and the events of last night came back to you.

* * *

You took a seat at the bar, hanging your head down in sorrow. "I'd like a beer," you told the bartender.

"Coming right up," he said, pouring a drink and tossing it on the table for you to catch. "So, what's troubling you?"

"My stupid boss," you admitted. "He had to come here for a party and asked me to be his plus one." You took a drink, letting the sour and bubbly liquid go down your throat. "'Come on,' he said. 'A trip to Vegas, it'll be fun,' he said. 'You don't even have to come as my secretary, just come as my friend,' he said."

"I take it you're not enjoying yourself," the bartender guessed.

You scoffed. "What gave that away?"

"First time I've seen someone come to Vegas and act completely miserable."

You took another drink. "Don't get me wrong, the gambling and drinking is fun," you admitted. "It's the party parts I dread. I've got a bunch of debutantes sticking their noses up at me and the business men think I'm a hooker." You laughed. "One of them even gave me a copy of his hotel key and asked me to visit him later tonight."

"Which one would that be?" you heard an angry voice ask behind you.

You turned around to see Jafar standing behind you and taking the seat right next to you.

"I don't remember," you admitted. "I think it might have been the blond guy."

"Must be Anders," Jafar said, the distaste in his voice clear, and then turned to the bartender. "I'll have a whiskey."

"I take it you're not having a good time either," you said, taking another drink.

"So far, all we've talked about is suits and who has the best business card," Jafar said, taking a shot of whiskey. "I'm starting to see why Patrick Bateman went insane."

"You're not going to start bringing people back to your house and chopping them up while playing Huey, Lewis and the News, are you?"

"You don't have to worry about that," Jafar reassured you as you took another drink from your glass. "I hate Huey, Lewis and the News."

You smiled, looking at the bubbles rise to the top and pop. "At least you fit in with these people," you told him. "I feel like I'm an outsider invading their territory."

"Trust me, I'm just as much of an outsider as you," Jafar claimed, downing another shot. "Those old money suits don't like a guy from the Bronx invading their territory."

"Guy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth," you said, raising up one hand. "Guy who had to fight his way tooth and nail to get to where he is today." You said, raising up your other hand. "Yeah, I can see why they'd think they were above you." Jafar chuckled, holding his shot glass near him. "If you want, I can leave you alone with your sorrow."

You were about to leave until Jafar grabbed your arm. "No, stay," he insisted. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"I don't want to put you out," you said with a nervous glance.

"I don't want to drink alone," Jafar said, a slight pleading look in his eyes.

You stayed in your seat and ordered your own whiskey.

* * *

After sampling everything the bar had to offer, you both chugged your shots and said to the bartender. "Another!"

"I think you both have had enough," the bartender told them.

"There's no such thing as enough!" Jafar said, raising his empty glass to the whole bar. "Am I right fellas?"

"You got that right!" the rest of the drunks shouted.

"A round for everyone in this bar!" he said to the bartender, you and the drunks cheering with him and, as soon as his drink was filled, he lifted his glass to you. "To my beautiful secretary, (Y/N), a go-getter who came to New York with nothing but a dream and always knows how to lift me up when I'm feeling down! She's the Moneypenny to my James Bond!"

Everyone in the bar shouted "To (Y/N)!" and then took a shot along with you and Jafar.

"Another drink!" you said, lifting your glass. "To Jafar, my gorgeous boss who took a chance on a Dallas suburban girl with no secretary experience and never made me feel small! The Tony Stark to my Pepper Potts!"

"To Jafar!" Everyone shouted, taking another shot along with you and Jafar.

"And I am most definitely not his hooker!" you added. "But, if I was, I wouldn't charge him a penny!"

"I'd pay top dollar for you!" Jafar shouted, lifting his glass again. "Because you're worth every cent!"

You and Jafar laughed as you both threw your glasses on the ground shouting, "Another!"

"Okay, that's it," the bartender told you, glaring. "As far as you two are concerned, the bar is officially closed!"

"Does that mean it's closing time?" You said, shooting out of your seat.

"Closing time," Jafar started singing as he got up from his seat. "Open all the doors and let you out into the world."

" Closing time," you joined in. "Turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl."

"Closing time," you and Jafar sang together. "One last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or beer." You took his hand in yours and swung them wildy. "Closing time." You and Jafar ended for the door. "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

Then you both left singing "I know who I want to take me home." over and over as the rest of the bar joined in. Before leaving Jafar yelled at the crowd, "All of your drinks are on me tonight!"

* * *

"I got it on video!" one of the drunks shouted, playing a YouTube video of you and Jafar leaving the bar singing Closing Time with the title, the business man and his hooker.

"Even if we're not married, my reputation is still ruined," he muttered, looking like he wanted to strangle that drunk.

"Your reputation?" you said, opening the instagram post and showing Jafar the comments on your getting married picture.

"'Congratulations on your marriage, I knew the two of you would get together.' 'Here's to you for scoring a gorgeous rich guy,'" Jafar read aloud and then turned to you. "Is there any point to this?"

"Keep reading."

"'You've shown your true colors, you gold-digging tramp,'" Jafar said, the anger in his voice coming through. "'What does Jafar even see in a whore like you?' 'Congratulations, you've found a shortcut to stardom that doesn't involve sleeping with your executive producer.'"

"And, after they see that video calling me your hooker, it's only going to get worse," you said, taking your phone out of his eyesight. "So at least I'll be going down with you." Jafar was silent as you kept searching through your Instagram and found another picture of you wearing the plastic golden crown with a caption that read, "Promoted from slave to Queen!" with a jewelry stand behind you.

"Next stop is the Cave of Wonders gift shop."

* * *

You and Jafar went to the Cave of Wonders gift shop to see shot glasses on display for 99 cents, jewelry stands with stacks of the golden crown you wore in the picture, a stand that held snake staffs that looked just like the broken one in your hotel suite, various shirts, caps and a collection of stuffed animals. Behind the register was a woman who didn't look happy to see the two of you.

"Oh, it's the King and Queen," she remarked. "Here to destroy more merchandise?"

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Last night, you and your boyfriend made such a mess, we had to stay up nearly half the night cleaning up after you," the cashier explained, crossing her arms and giving both of you an accusatory stare.

You were about to explain that Jafar wasn't your boyfriend, but he spoke before you could.

"Whatever we did, we're sorry," Jafar said, retrieving his wallet. "We were both really drunk." Jafar took a credit card out. "Here's for any of the damages we may have caused."

"You already took care of that," the cashier said, waving that off. "But that doesn't make up for the extra cleaning we had to do last night."

"What did we do last night?" you asked.

The cashier explained what happened, causing you to dig up another buried memory.

* * *

You and Jafar burst into the gift shop, laughing as if you just heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Shot glasses!" you exclaimed, running straight for the little cups of heaven. "Maybe they also have alcohol!"

"I'll check," Jafar said, holding out his hand and calling out to the cashier. "Hey, we need alcohol!"

"Don't forget beers," you told him, going towards the jewelry stand.

"And also some beers!" Jafar added.

"Sir, I'm afraid we don't sell alcohol here," the cashier told them. "You and your girlfriend will need to go to the bar."

"She's not my girlfriend, she's my secretary," Jafar explained.

"More like his slave," you elaborated. "Every day it's '(Y/N), fetch my coffee. (Y/N), schedule my appointments. (Y/N), take notes at my meetings.' and I respond with, 'Yes my King.'" You held your arms out as if they were bound together by an invisible chain.

"My King?" Jafar asked, turning to you. "Since when have you ever called me King?"

"Come on, it's no secret that the magazines call you the King of the business world," you explained, picking up one of the crowns. "I'm just a lowly slave girl who does your bidding."

Jafar eyed the snake staffs on display and took one of them in his hands. He turned to you and waved the staff around. "(Y/N), I release you from your chains and promote you to Queen," he said, moving the staff as if he had just created the crown in your hand out of thin air.

"WOO-HOO!" you said, jumping up and down and running into the shot glass stand, knocking down several of them.

"Well, my 'Queen,' I hope you plan on paying for those shot glasses," the cashier told you.

"I'll take care of it," Jafar said, letting go of the snake staff as he stuck his hands in his pockets, looking for his wallet. "And I'd also like to buy the crown."

The snake staff fell on the ground front first, smashing the glass head. Jafar pulled a credit card out of his wallet and threw it at the cashier. "Do you take..." he asked, trying to remember what type of credit card it was and failing. "Whatever that is?"

The cashier picked up the credit card, looking at Jafar like she wanted to kill him, and entered the info into the machine. "I hope you realize that you'll also be paying for that staff."

"I don't want it," Jafar told the cashier. "The magic's gone."

"Doesn't matter my 'King,'" she told him. "You break it, you buy it."

Jafar picked up the snake staff and positioned the eyes right near the cashier's eyes. "I don't need to pay for the staff," he said, deepening his voice. "You will also give us alcohol and beers."

"Yes you do," the cashier told Jafar, ringing him up. "And, as I told you before, we don't sell alcohol at the gift shop."

"See?" Jafar said, lowering the staff. "The magic's gone."

"Jafar!" you called, snapping a picture of yourself wearing the crown. "Thank you so much for my promotion!" You typed, "Promoted from slave to Queen."

"You're not promoted yet," Jafar told her. "Can't be a Queen without marrying a King."

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"Only if your answer's yes."

"YES!" you screamed, hugging your new husband to be. "When should we get married?"

"Right now!" Jafar said, leading you out of the gift shop. "Let's go find a chapel!"

"Sir!" the cashier called out, holding his credit card. "You forgot this."

"Right," Jafar said, running to the register and taking the credit card back. "Wouldn't want to leave without that."

* * *

You buried your face in your hands, feeling nothing but pure shame. "I am so sorry," you strongly emphasized.

"We were drunk," Jafar explained, as if that alone made up for their behavior. "Believe me, we don't normally behave like that."

"It's all right," the cashier told them. "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I've had to deal with drunk customers."

"Thank you so much," you said, slowly removing your face from your hands. "Again, we are so sorry."

* * *

"Well, this is it," you said, walking into the chapel. "The last stop on our memory recovery tour."

"You really think I treat you like a slave?" Jafar asked.

"Jafar, I was drunk," you pointed out. "And so were you. You actually thought you had magic powers."

"I was playing around," Jafar defended. "Even drunk, I wouldn't be crazy enough to think I was a sorcerer."

"So was I," you told him, ready to approach the man at the back.

The man looked up from his book. "Didn't I already marry you last night?"

"We're not here to get married," Jafar informed him.

You saw the doors open and another couple came in, giggling like mad.

"We want to get married!" one of them shouted.

Those very words had you recall your time in this chapel.

* * *

You both giggled like mad, running through the chapel door as if your very lives depended on this marriage greeted to the sight of white chairs, a ramp in the middle covered with rose petals and a fountain in the back where the priest stood, marrying a couple.

"We want to get married!" Jafar told the priest at the back.

"All right," he told them. "Just give me a minute."

You took your phone from your purse and held it up, opening the camera. "Smile!" you told Jafar as you snapped the picture. Then you typed, " ME AT A VEGAS CHAPEL, ABOUT TO MARRY THE MAN OF MY DREAMS!"

As soon as the couple before you was married, you and Jafar ran near the back of the chapel.

"Marry us," Jafar commanded.

The Priest picked up the bible on the white stand in front of him and flipped through the pages until he found the right one. "Dearly beloved, we are—"

"Skip all that," Jafar said with an impatient wave.

"Do you take this woman to—"

"I do," Jafar answered, not even wasting any time.

"Do you take this man—"

"HELL YES!" you screamed, causing the priest to draw back.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest told them. "You may now kiss the bride."

You put your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He responded with equal hunger, as if you were both releasing all of the passion you've been bottling up into one kiss. You pulled away from him, gazing at the gorgeous man across from you who was now your husband.

"WOOO!" you shouted, jumping and punching your fist in the air.

* * *

"You do realize we were really drunk last night?" you asked the man at the back.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," the man told the couple at the door and then turned to you. "Wouldn't be the first time two drunks got married in Vegas." Then added quickly. "And, yes, a marriage in Vegas counts."

"So, legally, (Y/N) and I are married?" Jafar asked. "And not just in Vegas?"

"Yes, the two of you are legally married," the man explained as if he'd gone through this routine before. "At this point, you can either annul the marriage or get a divorce."

You and Jafar left as the priest married the couple.

* * *

You collapsed on the couch, doing a google search on your phone. "It looks like we meet two of the criteria for an annulment," you told Jafar. "We were both unable to consent to the marriage due to mental incapacity and the marriage was not consummated, of course."

"What do you mean, 'of course?'" Jafar demanded to know, sitting beside you.

"For one thing, we both woke up in our underwear," you pointed out. "Another thing, we were both so drunk I highly doubt that..."

"Highly doubt what?" Jafar asked, the insult to his pride apparent in his voice.

"I highly doubt that..." you hesitated, trying to think of the best way to put this. "You were able to get your little engine running."

"I'll have you know, I had no issue with that!" Jafar declared.

He explained what happened in the hotel room as your memory came back to you.

* * *

You and Jafar walked through the hallway with his arm around your waist, both of you bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

"Welcome home, my Queen!" he said, opening the door and throwing the snake staff inside.

"Great to be home, my King!" you said, about to enter the door until Jafar stopped you.

"Oh no," Jafar said, holding his arms out and inviting you to jump in. An invitation you gladly took.

You wrapped your arms around Jafar's neck as he carried you bridal style into your hotel suite, your crown falling on the floor. He lost his balance and dropped you right next to it, falling right on top of you. You giggled, throwing your purse to the side and running your finger through his short and well-groomed beard. "Shall we consummate our union, my King?"

"Anything you say," he said, his lips only a few inches away from yours. "My Queen."

His lips touched yours in a passionate kiss. You ran your fingers through his thick curly hair, moaning into his mouth as he stuck his hand under your shirt, unclasping your bra like a pro. You unbuttoned his suit jacket and untied his tie. He momentarily broke the embrace, allowing you to remove his jacket. His tongue was at your lips, demanding entry which you instantly granted. You massaged his tongue with your own, savoring the taste of beer and whiskey. He lowered his hands to your pants, unbuckling and unzipping them. He lowered them until you could easily kick them off. You took his tie off and tossed it to the side. He lifted your shirt up and you momentarily broke the kiss as you raised your arms. He tossed your shirt to the side and smiled appreciatively at your unclasped red bra.

"How did you know red turns me on?" Jafar asked as you got your bra off.

"I didn't," you admitted. "But I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

You stuck your hands under his shirt, lifting it off of him as he put his arms up to help you. It was your turn to smile appreciatively as you found yourself treated to his amazing body.

"I knew you were fit," you said, running your fingers over his perfectly sculpted abs. "But I never knew you were so well... built."

"Glad I could surprise you," he said as you used your other hand to unbuckle his pants and lower them.

It was his turn to kick them off. Then he lowered your underwear, playing with your jewel and putting his mouth on your nipple, tending to it with his tongue. You ran your fingers through his hair, clasping on as you moaned louder and louder.

"Jafar," you moaned as you felt your entrance warm.

Jafar put his fingers inside of you, exploring every inch of your wet cave, your moans turning into screams at his expertly applied attention. "JAFAR!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, not caring who heard you.

You climaxed as he pulled his fingers out of your wet hole and removed his tongue from your nipple. He put his fingers near your slightly open mouth, inviting you to lick the residue off. You eagerly took one of them in your mouth, savoring the taste of yourself on your tongue. Jafar took his finger out and put the other finger in his own mouth, giving you an approving smile as he licked your residue off.

"Amazing," he said.

Then he lowered his lips near your ear. "I've wanted to do this for a long time," he told you, lowering his boxers and ready to fill you.

There was only one problem. His cock felt a little limp. You both laughed at this predicament.

"I got so drunk I can't even consummate our marriage!" he summarized.

"And on our wedding night too!" you said, touching Jafar's limp dick and getting a reaction. "Or maybe you just need some extra help."

You pinned Jafar down, massaging his cock and feeling it get hard as Jafar moaned. At first, you tease him, slowly massaging his cock and then speeding up the pace little by little as his moans got louder. "(Y/N)," he uttered, getting you even more excited as you quickened your pace. His moans turned into cries as you stroked him faster and faster, feeling him cum into your hand as he cried out, "(Y/N)!"

You took your hand away from his dick and saw the mess on your hand, licking it off and leaving a bit on your finger for him, putting it on his lips so he can have a taste of himself. Then you felt yourself consumed by uncontrollable giggles.

"So much for consummating our marriage," you said, as you realized what you had done.

You rolled off of him as the two of you went into a laughing fit and pulled your underwear back up. "Maybe we can try again in my bedroom," Jafar suggested with a smirk as he got up.

You stood up and giggled, holding your hand out. "Lead the way," you told him.

Jafar grabbed your hand and led you to his bedroom on the left. You were about to push him on the bed when he collapsed in a heap.

"Jafar," you said, gazing at your husband to see that his eyes were closed and you could hear his breathing, making you smile. You kissed Jafar on the forehead, admiring just how peaceful he looked. "Good night, my King."

You got under the covers right next to him and fell asleep.

* * *

"So my 'little engine' was working just fine," Jafar said, leaning back with a smug expression and putting his hands behind his head as you buried your own head in your hands in shame.

Then you remembered that, last night, one of your hands had been stroking your boss's cock and quickly placed them down, turning away from Jafar and gaining an interest in the front door.

"You might not want to tell that story in court," you told him, doing your best to sound professional. "All they need to know is that we got married drunk and that it wasn't consummated."

"Actually, I don't think we should get the annulment."

You turned around to face Jafar as if he just suggested that they climb Mount Everest. "Are you insane?"

"Here me out," Jafar said, straightening himself out in the chair. "I already have that YouTube video of me singing Closing Time in a bar. The last thing I need is for people to know that I got drunk and married in Vegas."

"So it's better for them to think that I'm a gold digging tramp?" you asked, giving him a deadly glare.

"No, not at all!" Jafar quickly said. "I was thinking we could spin this whole story to say that we were secretly involved with each other and we couldn't hide it anymore."

"In other words, you want us to have a sham of a marriage," You said, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. "Yeah, that's much better."

"I don't think it would be a sham," Jafar said, causing you to once again turn to your boss with a shocked look. "(Y/N), we wouldn't have gotten married if we didn't have some unspoken thing."

"We got married because we were so drunk, we lost all ounce of common sense," you insisted. "I would've married Jorge Garcia with that much alcohol in me."

"Would you have called Jorge Garcia the man of your dreams?" Jafar asked, receiving nothing from you but silence. "And when we... somewhat made love last night, I told you that I've wanted to do that for a long time. I wasn't lying."

"Okay, there might be some attraction there," you admitted, putting your arms down. "But this isn't about whether or not we should start dating. You're asking me to be your wife!"

"The whole point of dating is to get to know the other person," Jafar said, taking your hand in his. "And we already know everything there is to know about each other." He gazed intently into your eyes. "I know that you're from Dallas, you've had dreams of being an actress ever since you played The Ghost of Christmas Past in your Elementary School's production of A Christmas Carol." He rubbed your hand affectionately. "You came to New York to pursue your dreams and you were so scared of leaving your home, you had to give yourself pep talks in the mirror." You saw a small smile tug at his lips. "The only reason you even applied to be my secretary was because you needed the money for rent." He brushed your hair back with his free hand. "You were so nervous, you botched the interview but you came back and proved yourself." You smiled. "And you know quite a bit about me."

"I know that you're from The Bronx, that everyone thought you wouldn't amount to anything, even your own father. How you used to have a Bronx accent but got rid of it by copying reporters on TV," you said with a chuckle. "How you filed for emancipation when you were 16 and dropped out of school just to support your sister, struggling day after day at a job that you hated." You gazed at Jafar with an admiration that had nothing to do with his looks. "How you started your own company, working your way up from nothing." You removed your hand from his. "But that doesn't mean we'd make a good couple."

"If the marriage doesn't work out, we can always get a divorce."

"Or we can just get the marriage annulled, start dating after I find a job elsewhere and, maybe in a few years, get married," You countered. "Preferably sober and not in a Vegas Wedding Chapel."

Jafar laughed. "If that's your issue, we can just have a ceremony," he told you. "But I don't see the point in waiting a few more years just to get married again."

"To quote Rachel, this isn't a marriage, it's the world's worst hangover," you remarked.

"Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"I went to Vegas as my boss's plus one and then woke up as his wife," you pointed out. "If anything, I think you're under reacting."

"Maybe I see an opportunity where you see disaster."

You chuckled. "Okay, Jafar," you said, playing along. "What 'opportunity' could you possibly see in this other than protecting your own pride?"

"I see an opportunity to give you the life you deserve," Jafar explained, catching you off guard. "You already said you were going to quit anyway. If you were married to me, you could focus entirely on your acting." He put his finger under your chin. "You won't have to worry about food or rent." His face moved closer to yours, only an inch away from your lips. "You'll want for nothing."

You felt his lips touch yours in a soft kiss, finding yourself imagining the life Jafar described if you embraced being his wife. You could quit being a secretary and focus on your dream job, working on headshots, auditions, finally getting discovered in that big movie or TV role, or just becoming a famous Broadway star. You'd live in his dark mansion, he'd support you, provide for you, care for you. You would be by Jafar's side at his events not as his secretary, but as his wife. He'd be busy running his company and you'd be busy with your acting career but, in the end, you'd both manage to find time for each other to dance, make love and other couple type stuff. You could live like Gomez and Morticia.

You removed yourself from the couch, snapping yourself out of your romantic daydream and coming back to reality.

"It's a nice picture," you admitted, looking out the window. "But ask yourself this. Do you really want to create this picture from a drunk night in Vegas?"

"Does it really matter how the picture's created?"

Jafar did have a point. If your marriage was happy, did it really matter how you got married in the first place.

Of course it matters! you thought. Do you really want to get forced into a marriage you agreed to while you were wasted?

It wouldn't be a forced marriage. Jafar even said that, if it didn't work out, the two of you could always get a divorce.

Yet he's not letting you get an annulment, you thought.

"Well, what's your answer?" Jafar asked, almost sounding like a demand.

"I don't know," you snapped back. "Give me some time to think."

"How much time?"

"Until the Vegas trip is over," you told him. "No need to make any big decisions while we're on vacation."

"Okay," Jafar agreed as you turned around to see him turn on the TV. "Why don't we just stay in tonight, watch a movie?"

"Sure," you said, taking your seat back on the couch. "This whole thing's left me emotionally exhausted."

You sat in silence as you watched TV with Jafar, one question nagging at you. "Hey, Jafar," you said, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"If I chose to get the annulment, would you agree to it?"

After a few moments of silence, Jafar spoke. "Of course."

* * *

A/N: What do you think? Will you stay married to Jafar? Will you get the annulment and start datinghim? Was Jafar lying when he said thathe would get the annulment if that's what you wanted? Once again, I write a one-shot with anambiguous ending so I don't rip off the inspired source material. Feel free to tell me how you think this willall turn out. Also, feel free to guessthe Aladdin character cameo. The onlycharacters I couldn't make part of the guessing game were Genie and Anders, butI didn't know how else I was going to pull that off. One thing's for sure, I had way too much funwriting drunk Jafar.