Work Text:
The first time it happens, it’s after another one of their many arguments.
Kaveh is lecturing Alhaitham about nothing of importance at all, using elaborate hand gestures as he disparages Alhaitham for his lack of appreciation for beauty and aesthetics, all because Alhaitham made a pointed comment on one of the paintings he brought home.
The argument is nothing new. They have one every other day, if not every hour when they’re together, so Alhaitham definitely knows what he’s dealing with.
It’s what happens at the tail-end of this particular one that breaks routine.
“—of course, I wouldn’t expect an uncultured brute such as yourself to understand,” Kaveh says. “I should’ve known the nuances would be lost on you entirely, and for that I feel almost sorry. Imagine, being unable to distinguish atmosphere from composition, to distinguish tone from style—"
“Don’t you artists have a saying—what was it, beauty is in the eye of the beholder? And my opinion is that it doesn’t look like anything to work yourself up into an impassioned spiel over. But please, don’t let me stop you,” Alhaitham says wryly, because it really is as if someone threw paint on a canvas and called it a day.
It is a sentiment Kaveh absolutely does not share. Alhaitham predicts himself to be the recipient of another verbal flaying in precisely seven point five seconds—he adds in that extra half second to account for Kaveh’s hitch in breath—and it’s to no one’s surprise Alhaitham gets exactly that.
Then once that fire dies down, Kaveh will cross his arms, turn away, before asking Alhaitham what he wants for dinner, and Alhaitham will reply curtly if he isn’t in the mood for snark, and that cycle will repeat itself in a day or two. Alhaitham has come to expect this. It is routine. They’ll fight, they’ll go head-to-head, but it’ll always amount to nothing in the end.
At last, Kaveh has come down from the high of defending his purchase and is now on his phone, scrolling through a food delivery app. They’ve both had a long day, neither of them feeling up to the task of cooking, so they decide on take-out at one of their favourite restaurants.
Listlessly, Kaveh asks, “Is sushi good enough for you?”
This is what ends up being Alhaitham’s wonderfully dry response: “Oh sure, sushi sounds perfect, sweetheart.”
That’s when the conversation comes to a grinding halt, Kaveh looking at Alhaitham like he has sprouted three-heads in the middle of talking, frozen in shock. Alhaitham, too, is left to marvel over what he just said, because he honestly has no idea where that came from.
Does he want to push Kaveh’s buttons? Yes. But does he want to mess with Kaveh’s mind? Well…
At this point, Alhaitham expects one of two things: for Kaveh to either flip him off or brush the matter aside with a pointed expression.
But to Alhaitham’s incredulity, Kaveh blushes. And then stammers out: “Y-You know, a simple yes or no would’ve sufficed!”
No amount of talking gets Kaveh to meet his gaze for the rest of the night—and even the morning after—and it really makes Alhaitham think.
It’s an interesting development, to say the least.
After Kaveh’s rather unexpected reaction a few days ago, Alhaitham thought he’d forget about it eventually and move on, but the thing is, Alhaitham has bypassed the four-day mark and arrived at the realization that he’s still thinking about it. About what he said, about what Kaveh did in response.
They’re with Cyno and Tighnari the second time it happens. Cyno is testing out another one of his jokes (“Why did the scarecrow get promoted? Because he was outstanding in his field.”), Tighnari is talking about the rainforest conservation foundation he just joined, and Kaveh is discussing the Kshahrewar students’ recent field trip to Liyue for an international design research project.
They’ve all been so busy, with finals just around the corner, so it’s nice to catch up with friends.
As the night goes on, so, too, does Kaveh’s quota for any Alhaitham-related transgressions, no matter how big or small, and he somehow manages to sneak in a pointed reminder about the stack of research papers Alhaitham has yet to retrieve from the kitchen table; about the lack of appreciation and gratitude he gets from cleaning up after Alhaitham’s messes.
He really does hate it when Alhaitham leaves his stuff behind. Understandable.
But then Kaveh starts to murmur about another matter entirely, so Alhaitham has to be excused for wanting to push him to wits’ end.
“Darling, let’s talk about this later, we’re in front of guests, after all,” Alhaitham says, waiting to see if the endearment will land, if it will stick—
—and it does.
Kaveh blushes. Yes, he actually blushes again. The added bonus (and desired effect) is that he’s rendered speechless once again. He blinks, mouth agape.
They return to Cyno and Tighnari, who have begun a round of Genius Invocation TCG. Tighnari’s gaze discreetly flickers between them, and suddenly Alhaitham isn’t sure if he and Kaveh were entirely out of earshot.
Tighnari asks if they’d like to join the game, expression perfectly placid.
Alhaitham can only say yes.
One sunny weekend afternoon has Alhaitham and Kaveh walking down the streets of Port Ormos—of their own volition, Alhaitham might add—and sampling what the town has to offer. It’s a beautiful day; ships representing each of Teyvat’s seven nations line the harbour, tourists flock the boardwalks, and everywhere they go they’re met with signs proclaiming local shops and wares.
They came with a group—other students from the Akademiya—but they’ve since gone their separate ways. Alhaitham thought Kaveh would ditch him the first chance he got, but no. He’s still here.
After spending an hour sightseeing near the bay, they’re hungry enough to enter the first restaurant they come across, a pastel-themed café that specializes in pastries and coffee. Kaveh’s eyes light up; Alhaitham knows he’s a big fan of sweets, and this’ll probably hit the spot.
They line up to order. They talk and don’t argue.
Until what happens afterwards, that is.
“—also, just to let you guys know, couples get a ‘buy one get two free red velvet cupcakes’ deal, in commemoration of a very special Fontaine holiday that spans both today and tomorrow!” the cashier says brightly, tapping the heart-strewn signboard on the counter.
Alhaitham finds himself blinking at the implication he and Kaveh actually seem close enough to be mistaken for a couple. Kaveh’s face has gone red, and his mouth is open, presumably to refute the observation, but Alhaitham recovers faster and intervenes.
“Well, aren’t we in luck, honey?” Alhaitham says, handing over the mora.
“Enjoy your cupcakes, guys!” she tells them brightly before they find a spot to sit and eat.
It isn’t until Alhaitham is biting into a cupcake that Kaveh regenerates enough presence of mind to accost him.
“What was that?” Kaveh whisper-yells, waving a hand towards the cashier’s general direction.
Alhaitham raises an eyebrow. Somehow, he expected this. “And here I was, thinking you’d be appreciative of free dessert. Don’t you think it would’ve been a waste to pass up on such a tantalizing offer? Since you’re always lamenting over your lack of funds and all,” he says.
“Yes, but why did you have to—to act that way?” Kaveh hisses.
“Like what?”
“Don’t play dumb, you know what I mean!”
“I don’t,” Alhaitham says, sliding over the other cupcake to Kaveh. “But I have to say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t even get a thank you for my generosity. A simple acknowledgement would’ve been nice.”
“I bet you didn’t even know what day she was referring to,” Kaveh says, less infuriated now but still irritated.
“Why, was I supposed to?”
“Ugh, you—!” Kaveh breaks off, then takes in deep breath like he’s regaining his composure. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Didn’t expect you to, anyway.” He picks up the cupcake and takes a dainty bite. His eyes widen.
“It’s that good, huh?” Alhaitham says.
Kaveh is undoubtedly in sugar heaven. “It’s amazing,” he says weakly.
Alhaitham gives him the other one, then observes just how pleased Kaveh looks feasting on all of the dessert. Contentment is a good look on Kaveh’s face—it makes him seem younger, softens his sharp edges.
(Makes him look—pretty, Alhaitham recognizes very, very distantly.)
Alhaitham stops with the endearments for a time, after that.
After Kaveh explicitly expressed his annoyance with them, there wasn’t a real reason to stick to the act. While it had been a surefire way to get Kaveh to shut up, it was probably only a matter of time before Kaveh was classically conditioned into letting sweetheart, darling, honey slide, thus eliminating the purpose of why Alhaitham said them in the first place.
That’s all that it was, Alhaitham tries to convince himself at first.
But then the obvious happens: he starts seeing Kaveh in a different light. What once grated him like sandpaper doesn’t rub him off the wrong way like it used to, i.e how Kaveh treats him, the way he acts all disgustingly exasperated with Alhaitham, only to wordlessly clean up after him and cook him meals and ask if he’s well.
And so the seventh or eighth time it happens, Alhaitham isn’t even thinking.
He’s just arrived home from a shitty, tiring day. He’s all beat, ready to sink into bed and rest for the next fourteen hours, when he spots Kaveh on the couch, sighing at him imperiously.
“You’re going to be sick if you keep this up, you know,” Kaveh informs.
Alhaitham almost smiles at the irony, because this is coming from the guy who’d work himself to death if given the chance. He’s done it before, bending over backwards just to please professors, clients, and classmates alike despite juggling a full workload.
“I think I’m good, thanks,” Alhaitham, sinking into the space besides Kaveh, head nearly nudging Kaveh’s thigh.
“Have you eaten?” Kaveh asks.
“Mhm.”
“Really?”
“Yes really. Or do you want me to vomit the food out as evidence?”
Kaveh has no reply to that. But Alhaitham can imagine his repulsed face. They stay there in silence for a while, with just the sound of pages flipping as Kaveh goes through a fashion magazine. And then at last, the page flipping stops. The couch shifts; Kaveh standing up to leave.
“Well, good night.”
It is somehow instinct, for Alhaitham to murmur, “Good night, sweetheart.”
He thinks he hears the magazine thud to the ground. But it’s well into the next day when Alhaitham realizes what he he has done.
Afterwards, things are both different and the same.
They remain the same, in most aspects. The bickering, the fighting, and their daily routines. But they’re also different, in the sense that Kaveh has become a lot less volatile.
Alhaitham suspects it’s in large part due to him. He can’t decide if he’s a big fan of the change; he was always amused by Kaveh’s mood swings and quips, so it’s like an unfamiliar silence has settled ever since Kaveh chose to keep to himself a lot more.
But he’s still snippy when he wants to be, and today is a reflection of that.
They’re both arguing about something stupid. Kaveh goes on and on about chores. And then it gets to the part where Kaveh rips into Alhaitham about his attitude, his mannerisms, his behaviour; about the way he’s been treating Kaveh like dirt.
And Alhaitham—he’s understandably confused at the direction their argument has taken. How has he been treating Kaveh when he acts the same as he always has?
“Just—just stop, okay?” Kaveh snaps. “Stop acting like you don’t know.”
He’s begun to look increasingly upset with every word he gets out, hands balled into fists. He’s usually so put-together, appearance-wise, that it’s strange to see him so rattled—all blonde flyaway hair and dark bags underneath his eyes. He even went out to a bubble tea store wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, which is how Alhaitham knows it’s serious. This has to be a low point for him.
So he asks Kaveh to talk him through what he did to make Kaveh so upset. Asks about what he did that was so personally insulting that Kaveh has ditched the silk shirts and eyeliner in favour of brooding.
“You’re the problem, you—you idiot!” Kaveh yells, waving his arms to drive home the point it’s Alhaitham who’s at fault. It’s Alhaitham’s existence that offends him so. “I know you know how I feel about you, and you’ve been toying with my feelings, trying to be cruel as possible in turning me down. It’s sick, and I’d appreciate it if you just told it to my face and left me alone.”
Oh. Oh.
Clarity snaps into place. Alhaitham gets it now. All this time, Kaveh thought Alhaitham calling him pet names was his way of mocking Kaveh for his—feelings. That does sound bad.
But it also wasn’t his intention. Kaveh has it all wrong. He didn’t do all that to screw with him.
“Wait, you like me,” Alhaitham says.
Kaveh rolls his eyes. “No, I don’t like you, because I’m in love with you, you dumb brute!” he yells again so loudly the windows actually rattle.
Alhaitham blinks as he processes the revelations of today’s confrontation. It takes a while for everything to sink in. But when they do—
Kaveh loves him. Kaveh loves him.
Kaveh loves him. Alhaitham.
“So you love me,” Alhaitham whispers.
What Alhaitham expects is for Kaveh to blush and attempt to disprove his confession like an embarrassed schoolgirl, for Kaveh to gaslight him into thinking he’s got it all wrong and is merely confused. What Alhaitham does not expect is for Kaveh to shriek and slap his shoulder afterward—truly the highlight of Alhaitham's day.
“Stop! Don’t say it!” Kaveh screeches, covering Alhaitham’s mouth with his hand.
Out of all the things Kaveh could have done, this is by far the most bewildering. Alhaitham patiently pries Kaveh’s wrist away.
“What, that you love me?”
“This is unbelievable,” Kaveh laughs miserably and hysterically. “This is unreal.”
“Oh Celestia, you really do love me,” Alhaitham says.
Kaveh shuts his eyes, like a man on death sentence inadequately braced for the afterlife.
Is it bad Alhaitham wants to laugh? Not because he wants to be mean, but because he’s still reconciling the version of Kaveh in his mind that can’t stand him to the version that actually loves him. “Sweetheart,” says Alhaitham.
No response.
“Darling.”
At last, Kaveh snaps. “If you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to fall in love with you even harder!” he threatens. “I mean it, you—you asshole! You jerk! You have no idea of what I’m capable of. Oh, you’ll regret this, mark my words. You’ll—”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Alhaitham murmurs, brushing the hair out of Kaveh’s eyes.
Spots of red appear on Kaveh’s cheeks like rouge kisses. He proceeds to tell Alhaitham that he hates him, but it’s so blatantly untrue, the effect winds up being comical.
Alhaitham is there to catch Kaveh when Kaveh finally falls into his arms, scowling. He holds Kaveh by the shoulders as Kaveh says this next: “But what I hate even more is the fact that I love you.”
He says it with great misery, like it’s all Alhaitham’s fault that Kaveh feels the way he does.
“Good to know,” says Alhaitham, smiling.
Alhaitham stopped counting a long, long time ago, but he’s sure he’s well into ten-digit territory by now.
“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” Alhaitham says as he roots around the dresser for a shirt, smirking at Kaveh’s sleepy face.
“Haitham, come back to bed,” Kaveh mumbles, tugging at Alhaitham’s arm, and who is Alhaitham to deny his husband when Kaveh pulls him into a kiss.